


Against all Odds

by Jojorice



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-08-19 20:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20215435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jojorice/pseuds/Jojorice
Summary: Prompto needs to remind himself again that it's all a game, that it's not real. But the air feels stale and cold, the barren corridors stretch on for ages, and the invisible gaze boring through the back of his head's way too familiar. It's familiar, but it's far from comforting. He doesn't dare turn back.AU where Prom and Noct become friends, they start to like each other, and everything's going great until they went and bought that stupid game.





	1. Castle or Costle

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Here's my first fanfic- a self indulgent, hot modge, bit of a mess. Kinda like molten lava cake, but without the baking powder. I really hope some of you enjoy it anyway- I have a lot of fun writing this kinda stuff. Really appreciate my sis for beta reading, and my friend for encouraging me. My sis isn't a Promptis fan quite yet, but I'll get her there. >:D

Prompto stares out the window blearily, warm sunlight lulling him to sleep. Usually he’s wide awake, scrambling to take notes for another cosmogony exam that he’s probably gonna flunk, but he’d just pulled an all-nighter trying to fix the drying machine that broke down in the middle of drying his very wet bed sheets. Maybe eating spaghetti-o’s at 1 in the morning on his bed wasn’t the best idea, but he’s pretty sure it’s a ‘blame the sin and not the sinner’ kinda thing. On top of that, he had the night shift at the 24/7 grocer the night before, and broke his bike’s back wheel on a jagged pothole in the road on the way back. He’d spent that night fiddling with his bike, and found himself getting lost in work until the break of dawn- by that time he had added a new light, constructed a slick new holder for his phone, and found his face covered in grease marks.

“-…Mr. Argentum, could you please name one?”  
He jolts to attention, eyes snapping open. “Uh, sorry s-sir, I missed that uh…sir?”

Mr. Terra stares at him deadpan, mouth set in an unassuming line. “I said, please name one of the architectural feats of the Solheim Era, Argentum.”

“Uh…” He quickly wracks his brain, promptly deciding he’s never heard- although he totally should’ve- of Solheim before. He stiffens at the feeling of a startling jolt on his chair leg, although it’s more of a reaction to the bewilderment that no one other than Prince Noctis, A+ cosmogony student, and Prompto’s new acquaintance of yesterday, is attempting to help him answer what honestly is a pretty simple question. 

“Costlemark,” Prince Noctis whispers from behind, stealthily appearing to be reading his textbook. Prompto gulps, straining his hearing capabilities to their fullest potential, which really isn’t very much at all.

“Uh, Castleee…” Prompto starts confidently, voice tilting up into a question at the end. Mr. Terra nods encouragingly with an expectant look on his face.

Another kick. “Mark,” the prince hisses, looking in the other direction as Prompto strains his ears once again, getting absolutely nothing. 

“Well, Argentum?”

Prompto’s pretty sure that this information is embedded somewhere in his years of monotonous history classes. “uh, just give me a second,” he scratches his head. “Lemme see…”

A lightbulb goes off. He clenched his fist in triumph. “It’s Costle!”

“...Castle Costle. Is that your final answer?” Several of his classmates snicker, and one guy in the back just breaks out into hooting laughter, smacking a hand over his mouth with an audible clap in embarrassment when he realized what’d he’s just done. 

Face flaming, Prompto bites his lip nervously. “uh, something like that?” 

“It’s Costlemark, Argentum. Close, but not quite! Make sure to keep up with your studies,” Mr. Terra states not unkindly, turning to the board. “Now, Costlemark Tower is just one of many achievements. The other architectural feats are…” 

Prompto plops down in his chair and shoves his face in his notebook, ears splashed pink. As he fears, he’s not only made a fool of himself in front of the entire class, but also in front of Prince Noctis. He’s pretty sure his sweaty handshake from yesterday’s introduction did him no favors either, although Noctis himself seemed to pay no mind. 

“…And that’s all for today. There will be a test on the golden era of Solheim next Monday, so be sure to study.” The class immediately bursts into activity when the bell rings, the telltale sign of lunch break. 

Prompto feels a hand on his shoulder as he blearily looks up from his textbook. “Castle Costle, huh?” Noctis teases, laughing at Prompto, who in turn sulks akin to a grumpy cat.

“Not you too, Prince Noctis,” Prompto moans drearily. He begrudgingly packs his books into his worn school bag, shoving his pencils in the side. “Why would they call it Costlemark? Why Costle instead of, I dunno, Castle?” he turns to Noctis, hands gesticulating wildly. “What is a costle?!” Prompto cries, slinging his bag over his shoulder with more force than necessary. 

Noctis laughs, nudging Prompto. “Prompto, you were pretty close. Don’t bother brooding over it.” He dangles his wrapped lunchbox in front of Prompto, leaning on his desk. “C’mon, how does lunch together sound?”

Prompto slowly feels a grin form, former sour mood dissipating. Lunch with Noctis? He’d take that up any day.  
—————————————————————  
“Woah, this is a nice spot,” Prompto idly comments, watching the branches of the tree they’re settled under sway gently in the wind.

“Yeah, it sure is,” Noctis mumbles through a mouthful of cubed steak. “I found it a while ago.”

Prompto hums in lieu of a response, opening his lunch to only wilt at the sight of his sad spinach salad. Fortunately, he isn’t a picky eater, and salad is pretty healthy. It works anyway, because he’s recently found that he needs to be saving cash in order to cover his water bill too.  
“Thanks for trying to help me out earlier,” Prompto sighs, poking around at his spinach. “But at this rate, I think I’m gonna fail cosmogony II. Memorizing is not exactly uh my biggest forte, if you get what I mean.”

Noctis snorts, gulping down a mouthful of food. “Pretty sure it isn’t anyone’s biggest forte. I’ve had to read and memorize the history of Lucis since I was a kid, so it’s all ingrained by now.”

“Seriously?! Those eons upon eons of Lucis kings? And all those dates? That’s… that’s straight up ghastly,” Prompto gasps, dropping his plastic fork.

Noctis laughs, putting down his lunch. “I know, right?” He pauses for a moment before looking at Prompto, a strange look on his face. “You know… I c-can help you study if you’d like?”

Prompto hurriedly gulps down his spinach, nearly choking. “Seriously? You’d be a lifesaver-” he stammers, picking up his plastic fork. 

“Sweet, so how does Sunday at my place sound?” Noctis interrupts, breathing a small sigh of relief that goes unnoticed by Prompto, who’s now effectively flipping out. 

“-but like, Idon’twannajustbargeinand…” Prompto blabbers, very aware that his face is flaming red. Noctis has just invited him to his place, and he’s now imagining himself breaking everything that he breathes on, getting thrown out, and becoming a hermit on a distant island with a disdain for spinach salad. 

“I invited you,” Noctis points out, pointing his fork emphatically at Prompto. He proceeds to pack up his lunch and stands up, offering a helping hand to Prompto. “C’mon, lunch break’s ending in 2.”

Prompto grabs on and gives a wobbly smile as Noctis hefts him up. It reminds him of the first time they’d met as kids, back when he was chubbier, quieter, and had a growing passion for photography. 

Years later, after that incident drove him to start a healthy lifestyle of exercise and lots of salads, Noctis could now lift him up. Although the frequent soggy salads are nowadays more because of his tight wallet. 

“And, Prompto.” Noctis says, snapping Prompto out of his reverie. Prompto looks up. 

“Just call me Noct,” Noctis grins. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” Prompto pauses, then breaks out into a grin.

“Yeah, you got it. And Noct?”

“Hmm?”

“You can call me Prom,” Prom says with a shy smile, the first of many that were to come.


	2. Sunshine Chocobos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prom finds his favorite game and meets Ignis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could find chocobo merch at CVS. Really appreciate my sis beta reading- I usually miss stuff all the time. Hope you enjoy :)

“Is that…” Prompto gasps, frozen in the aisle, eyes glued to the colorful poster. “Oh. My. Astrals. Noct, you’ve gotta see this.”

“What?” Noctis peers around the snack corner, basket filled with chips, boxes of frozen junk food, and root beer. “What am I supposed to be looking at?” He squints his eyes, looking in Prom’s general direction.

“Just the one and only limited-edition Sunshine Chocobo collection,” Prompto gulps. “I-I thought all the merch sold out! Do you even know what this means?” he gasps dramatically, arms flailing comically up and down.

Noctis raises an eyebrow, looking skeptically at the cartoon chocobo cardboard standup. “Uhhh, that you like … chocobos?” he shrugs, moving towards the chocobo themed shelves. “What’s the big idea?” he prods at the chocobo themed squishies, making faces when the bodies caved in grotesquely before slowly popping back into place.

Prompto scoffs, temporarily breaking from cooing at small chocobo keychains. “Noct, they’re practically the cutest, fluffiest, little things on Eos. Who wouldn’t like them, they’re- holy sweet gysahl greens on a stick,” Prompto stops abruptly, grasping onto Noct’s arm. “I can’t believe my eyes.”

He blinks his eyes and shakes his head again, just to make sure. Nope, yeah, it looks just the same. There it is, in all its plastic wrapped, limited edition, cutesy cartoon chocobo glory- Collective Chocobo Racing. Prompto’s pretty sure that he’s just got his life’s worth of luck and then some in this one moment, and he’s not complaining about it one bit.

Noctis laughs, shaking his head. “Prom, whatcha looking at now? The chocobo patterned blankets?”

Prompto shakes his head, gingerly reaching out to grab a sleek, plastic covered DVD case covered in cartoon chocobos and cheesy suns with smiley faces. “Dude, this is _the_ one and only Collective Chocobo Racing, Sunshine edition,” he wheezes, grasping at his chest. “help. what do I do.”

Noctis looks over Prompto’s shoulder, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. “Chocobo racing?”

“Yeah, ya know. Like racing chocobos. Vroom vroom.” Prompto unhelpfully supplies, engrossed in furiously counting his budget for the month. He’s pretty sure he could spare a bit of food money on this. Just a week of only eggs and maybe some cabbage, no biggie. Maybe take up a few more night shifts at the grocer. In any case, there is absolutely no way he’s gonna let Noct pay for the game. Noct’s already paying for all the food tonight and Prompto really doesn’t want to look like a gold-digger, because he really feels like one.

“So you ride chocobos… in cars? Sounds interesting,” Noct says, casually plucking the game out of Prompto’s hands and putting it into the basket. Prompto snaps out of his stupor, looking stupidly at Noct.

“What,” Noct laughs, flicking Prompto’s forehead. He turns around, continuing to meander down the aisle. “I’ve been thinking, that one plushie really looks like a cheese puff. Is that on purpose? Because that’s a pretty smart marketing strategy,”

Prompto sighs, frowning. “Noct. Game. Chocobo.” He sets a hand on his hip, expression firm and adamant. He’s not about to let Noct pay for their frozen junk and the game. Plus, he has a sneaking suspicion that Noct’s always trying to treat him whenever they went out, and well, he always succeeds, one way or another.

“Prom’s. Head. Chocobo.” Noct chirps back, breaking into laughter at his joke. “C’mon bud, it’s fine.”

Shaking his head, Prompto lunges forward in a clumsy attempt to snatch the game from their shared basket as Noct easily tiptoes out of the way, holding the basket away. “Nooctt, I’ll pay for it. I’m the one who really wants it after all,” he pleads, a little desperate. “Plus you’re already paying for the food. This isn’t cool, dude”.

Noct shakes his head, lazily throwing an arm on Prompto’s shoulders. “Don’t be like that, I wanna play it too,” he counters, a small grin on his face. “C’mon, let’s go already so we can start our gaming and hot pocket binge.”

Prompto looks at Noct and they stop in the aisle for a moment, both staring each other down. Noctis quietly breathes a sigh of relief as Prompto’s frown slowly breaks into a crooked grin, fond but weary.

Prompto grudgingly gives a sigh of defeat, crossing his arms. “_Okay_. But next time we go Kenny Crow’s, I’m paying.”

“Sounds good. Now let’s go, I’m starving.”

_______________________________________

“Prom, I swear if you win again,” Noctis mumbles heatedly, sprawled on the couch, jamming the buttons quickly. “then you’ve gotta have cheats.”

Prompto laughs, jabbing Noctis lightly in the ribs. “Dude, you know there’s no way. We just got the game a few hours ago.” He crows in victory as his purple car races past Noct’s, breaking the finishing ribbon.

Noctis throws his hands up in the air, groaning in frustration. “How do you always win, right at the end?” he glares intently at the game screen, their two avatars sitting on two pixelated chocobos, one blue and the other pink, each sitting in decaled buggies . He opens his mouth, closes it after a moment, then opens it again, muttering, “Anyway, why are we riding chocobos that ride in cars? Kinda defeats the whole purpose of riding a chocobo, don’t ya think?” He runs a hand through his messy hair, flopping back on the couch in defeat.

Prompto puffs his chest out, smirking. “Don’t question perfectly sensible logic, Noct. Everyone knows that chocobos love cars, and what’s better than a chocobo riding one?”

“Yeah, totally sensible,” Noct rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, mouth quirking into a small smile.

Prompto stages a dramatic yawn, exaggeratedly stretching his arms behind his head. “Anyway, didn’t you already know? It’s well known that I’m…” he pauses for theatrical effect, looking at Noct emphatically.

Noct raises an eyebrow, face deadpan. “You’re…?”

Prompto takes that as his cue to continue, “ a chocobo _whisperer_. It’s a secret skill that only the very best can use. I’m telling you, it ensures my success every time. All I’ve gotta whisper is ‘_Kweh kweh_-’”

A pillow promptly smacks his face, effectively cutting him off. Prompto splutters, feathers flying around him. “Heeyyy. Someone’s jelly.”

Armed with a hefty pillow, Noctis grins evilly as he stands up on the couch, wobbling a bit. “If you’re a chocobo whisperer, then I’ve gotta be a pillow whisperer. See if you can beat me now, chocobutt head.” he teases, arm poised for another throw.

Prompto snorts, snatching a couch pillow on the right. “Well with how much you sleep, you’re more like a sloth- Oof!” Another hefty pillow pummels right into his stomach, effectively causing him to tumble off the couch in an ungraceful heap of limbs.

Prompto scrambles up to his feet, eyes narrowed. “Alright, that’s it. You’re on, you sneaky son of a gun.”

An intense pillow fight ensues, leaving feathers flying everywhere, the couch in shambles, and clumsy parkour over the kitchen island. When Prompto accidentally trips over the couch foot and goes sprawling into Noct’s school bag, papers goes flying everywhere, scattering across the floor. He looks up at Noct and Noct simply shrugs, throwing a pillow at him.

When Noct’s pillow pegs a lamp that smacks Prom in the face, Prompto falls over, banging his head on the hardwood floor with a sharp thwack. They have a small truce afterwards that involves an ice pack on Prom’s face and a snack break that includes chocolate popsicles and oozing hot pockets.

But when Noct knocks over their plastic cups of flat root beer on the coffee table in an attempt to peg Prompto in the stomach, they decide they should probably stop, if anything, to avoid incurring a certain bespectacled advisor’s wrath, which now leads to their current conundrum- out of all things, they spilled it on the _carpet_. Prompto’s internally freaking out.

“So like, do you know where the stain remover’s at?” Prompto asks gingerly, dabbing the growing stain helplessly with Noct’s - what were they? He looks down at the brown soaked paper, glimpsing a red circle. Ah, Noct’s algebra test from last month.

“There’s something that can remove stains?” Noct asks, bewildered. “I wish I knew that before junior high’s hair gel incident,” he sighs, mindlessly handing Prompto more of his schoolwork. Prompto tilts his head sideways, looking at the front of the paper- it’s Noct’s Lucian essay from two days ago. Prompto pauses for a moment, wondering if he should really be using Noct’s old graded papers. He looks down at the growing puddle of root beer, and grabs them anyway, continuing to dab at the stain.

“So, junior high’s hair gel incident, huh? You gotta tell me all about that later,” Prom snorts at the absurdity of imagining a younger Noct panicking at an explosion of hair gel in the bathroom.

“I’m not telling you anything except that we found hair gel in the strangest places for weeks after that,” Noct huffs, embarrassed. “And then Iggy banned me from doing my hair for a month,” he says, albeit quieter, ears turning red. “Anyway, we gotta deal with this mess somehow, and since you’re my partner in crime, I’m dragging you in it too.”

Prompto snorts. “Hey, a pillow fight needs two to tango so,” he finger guns at Noct. “I got ya back buddy.”

“You better, otherwise it’s treason,” Noct says, laughing. “Anyway, we gotta think of a plan.” He put his hands on hips, pursing his lips.

Silence ensues between the two boys, who stare at the mess dumbly.

‘_For my first time at your place, I feel like I’m not doing so hot_,’ is what Prompto wants to say but he finds himself saying instead, “Sooo, uh when does Iggy get back?”

Noct sucks in a deep breath as they both stare at the root beer puddle slowly seeping into the carpet. “Hopefully not soon. Lemme find a towel, and you can find that uh. Stain thing.”

“Alrighty-o then,” Prom says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as Noct haphazardly attempts to shove some of the stuffing back into the pillows.

It feels like it was just yesterday, when he was worried he’d break Noct’s coffee table just by breathing on it. Thankfully, he hasn’t broken Noct’s coffee table, but instead he’s stained the carpet, knocked over the lamp, and strewn pillow stuffing everywhere. Prompto’s pretty sure he’s never gonna be invited back.

And just because Prompto’s just about run out of luck for the rest of his lifetime, he freezes when he hears the key click in the lock of the front door. Noct’s head snaps up at the sound, mouth open. “Shit, Iggy’s already back,” he hisses, dropping his poorly stuffed pillow. Eyes comically wide, he scrambles off in search of a towel, leaving Prompto alone. And Prompto very much does not want to be alone.

The door swings open, and in comes an impeccably dressed and bespectacled man, holding two bags of groceries of most likely the healthy kind, if the carrots and cucumbers are any indication. A moment passes in silence as he bends down to take off his shoes and Prompto isn’t sure if he should casually say his greetings or just grab his stuff and run, although he’s kinda aware in the back of his mind that running would probably make him look _so_ much worse.

Ignis looks up, eyes flickering to the seeping root beer stain behind Prompto’s feet. There’s a moment of tense silence as he stands in the doorway, appearing to briefly absorb the situation. Prompto just wants to launch himself into the sun. 

“You must be Prompto,” Ignis finally says, calmly walking into the kitchen, ignoring the paper hot pocket wrappers on the table.

“U-uh, yeah, that’s me. And you must be,” Prompto nervously clears his throat, frozen in spot. “uh, Ignis, the guy who cooks the...wild lunches Noct brings.” he rattles off unsurely, face flaming when he realizes he just said the words, ‘_wild lunches_’. “I mean, like good lunches? I don’t know if they’re from the wild, uhmm.” God, he just wants to stop talking. Why is he still talking?

Ignis cracks a thin smile, glancing over at Prompto as he brings a roll of paper towels and a clear spray bottle over. “I’m pleasantly surprised to find that Noct shares his lunch with you. His Highness has a very selective palate, but I’m glad to hear that you enjoy it.”

“Okay, so I found a kinda clean towel in the closet-” Noct says as he turns the corner, only to halt when he sees Ignis. Ignis simply raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms. “It was an accident,” Noct’s voice takes on a petulant whine as he tosses the towel on the puddle. “Iggy, don’t give me that look.” he huffs as he crouches down, halfheartedly scrubbing the carpet.

Ignis crouches down, and shoos Noctis away, removing the towel. “I’m not surprised,” he sighs, spraying stain remover. “I’ve seen worse.”

Noct groans in lieu of a response, lazily picking up the towel as Prompto worries his lip, feeling guilty. Ignis turns around, pinning the two of them down with a knowing look. “From the sorry state of the couch and the feathers in Prompto’s hair, I can guess what occurred. I’d prefer if you both restrained the area of damage next time.” he looks around the wrecked living room for effect.

“Ignis, I’m so sorry,” Prompto mumbles, feeling incredibly guilty as Noct mumbles a small apology, not looking sorry at all. 

Noct perks up when he spots the groceries in the kitchen, meandering over there to peek in the bags. “What is this…stuff?” he asks as he takes out different cans and ingredients, a disgusted look on his face as he finally pulls out a medium-sized bundle of carrots. He holds it at the tip like it’s toxic, dangling it far away from him. 

Ignis laughs as he heads to the kitchen, unpacking the groceries. “This _stuff_ is so I can make green curry,” he rubs at his chin thoughtfully, “and possibly a yogurt sauce.” He turns to Prompto, a kind smile on his face. “I’ve heard from Noct that this dish is your favorite.”

“...Could I help?” Prompto asks hopefully, walking into the kitchen tentatively. Noct quickly loses interest, and leaves the kitchen, flopping back onto the messy couch with a groan. He blatantly ignores the feathers and pillow stuffing that goes flying in the air from the impact, and turns on the tv. Ignis just clicks his tongue at that, a resigned look on his face. Prompto can’t blame him.

Ignis turns to Prompto with a warm smile, washing the veggies in the sink. “Well I’d certainly appreciate it,” lowering his voice to a whisper, “ if you could be bothered to dice the carrots small enough so his Highness can’t pick them out.” 

“I heard that,” Noct yells from the couch, “You can’t trick me.”

Prompto stifles a giggle as Ignis looks up at the ceiling for a few moments before letting out a sigh, proceeding to pour coconut milk and chicken stock into the iron pot.

“Maybe you could use vegetable stock next time,” Prompto says, tongue sticking out in concentration, “it’s kinda like Noct’s eating more veggies.”

“Hmm, that is a good suggestion. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Ignis hums, adjusting the temperature of the oven. He turns to the rest of the veggies, rubbing his chin. A thoughtful look is etched on his face, as if he’s trying to work out a particularly challenging puzzle. 

“Are these small enough?” Prompto asks tentatively, frowning at his unevenly diced carrots. He’d quickly found out he has no skill whatsoever with knives when he’d first tried to cut a radish for dinner. The knife had gotten stuck, and he promptly forgot it for a week, shoving the radish into the back of the fridge. When he’d found it a week later, he banged it on the countertop, creating a shower of bits all over the kitchen floor, but thankfully, one radish-free knife. Ever since then, he hadn’t bothered slicing much of anything.

Ignis looks over for a bit, stirring the pot. “It was a good effort, but not quite small enough,” he says thoughtfully as Prompto looked at him nervously. “From years of experience, I’ve found that Noct has the nose of a bloodhound when it comes to his veggies.” He turns to pull a machine out of the cabinet. “Perhaps blending would be easier.”

“Holy chocobo. That’s genius,” Prompto says, astonished that Ignis is willing to go that far to serve Noct veggies, Astrals forgive.

“Well someone needs to make sure he doesn’t die of vitamin deficiency,” Ignis chuckles, and Prompto finds himself laughing as well, thinking that Iggy really isn’t as scary as he first seemed after all.

—————————————————————

A few hours later, Prompto’s at the front of his house, waving goodbye to Iggy and Noct. Well, Noct already’s fallen fast asleep in the backseat. 

“Thanks for the delicious meal and ride Iggy- uhm,” he clears his throat nervously and shakes his head vigorously, “Uh, Ignis. And I’m so, so sorry about the root beer mess.” God, he’s just making this all sorts of awkward.

“Iggy is perfectly fine, Prompto,” Ignis smiles gently, adjusting his glasses. “Don’t worry about the spill, it was a small thing. It was a pleasure meeting you today, and have a good night.” With a final wave, Iggy rolls up the window and speeds off, the low hum of the car fading into the night. Prompto gives a final wave at his doorstep, lowkey ecstatic that he’s now got nickname rights, and turns a bit drearily to enter his empty home. 

Slipping off his shoes at the front, Prompto feels an overwhelming wave of loneliness hit him when he turns on the lights. It’s been a while since his parents have been home, but he understands, or at the very least he likes to think he does. Research abroad in Altissia and whatever they did- all that, he figures, is pretty important stuff. They even send him the basic living expenses monthly and the occasional holiday card. He knows they’re trying their best, he gets it, but…eating with Iggy and Noct tonight made him feel the most comfortable, most _homely_ he’d felt in a long time. It’s definitely been a good while since he last ate a warm home cooked meal with people who cared about him. He knows that it’s better than he deserves, but he can’t help but want for more.

He flops in bed, belly full, idly wondering if he should bother taking a shower. He doesn’t really mind falling asleep smelling like green curry, but his hair’s a right mess. His phone’s muffled ringer suddenly rings from his jean pocket, grabbing his attention.

_ Kweh! Kweh!  _

He snatches it, taking a moment to blearily look at the bright screen in the dark of his room.

_ Noct: srry fell alsepp-wanna come over nxt Sat? _

He thinks seriously about it for a moment. Would he be overstepping his boundaries? There is also the fact that Iggy was really nice today even though he totally wrecked the couch and carpet as a... _ lasting _ first impression. 

_ Prom: u sure?  _

_ Prom: but actually does iggy hate me  _

_ Noct: pffttt, he def likes u _

_ Noct: Come nxt Sat our chocobo fight isn’t ovr _

_ Noct: don’t tell me u fell asleep  _

_ Noct: I dothat _

_ Prom: srry  _

_ Prom: (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) nxt sat sounds good!  _

_ Noct: cya then dude _

Prompto smiles to himself, dropping his phone to look up at his faded blue ceiling. Maybe, just maybe, he can be hopeful for more hangouts in the future, and less tragic first impressions. Should be easy, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought root beer was actual beer until I saw them handing them out at school, when I was a kid, just before summer break. I really like coke, myself. And aloe drinks :D


	3. In which Gladio is buff and Prompto is not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto meets Gladio, and needs to get buff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really love my sister- she's beta read again, the madwoman. (jk) I looked up some stuff about photography when writing this, and it's pretty complicated. Hope you all like it!

It’s fall break, and for most people, that means mild weather, orange tinted trees, and knitted sweaters, but it means three things for Prompto. Number one: he’s gonna start smelling like pumpkin spice everytime he comes back from his shift at the coffee shop, because everyone seems to love pumpkin spice, even though he thinks the caramel nutmeg latte’s  _ way _ better. Number two: he needs to start cram studying for the cosmogony midterm, because studying with Noct usually involves more King’s Knight than  _ actual _ studying. And finally, the most exciting thing of all is something he’s been anticipating and preparing for months- he’s finally gonna go for that job at the photography studio he’s been nervously keeping an eye on.

The job focuses primarily on landscape portraits, so he’s spent the past few months taking daybreak shots, stunning views of the citadel during the night, pictures overseeing the city, scenic photos of the sky on his run, and whatever else screams ‘nature’ and ‘cool’ to his eye. 

He’d nervously sent in his portfolio last week to get a callback yesterday about making it to the final round of applicants for an in person interview, which is fantastic, considering he only has two measly photography classes under his belt and practically no past experience. 

Prompto usually takes pictures of whatever he finds interesting on his phone, but he had to save up a little to get a basic compact digital camera with a better resolution. This means less time with Noct and more time spent serving fall themed lattes, but Noct seems pretty busy himself, so everything kinda works out. But he still kinda misses him. 

Anyway, Prompto figures it’s high time he hits up the bookstore. He really needs to get his hands on some kind of “cosmogony for dummies” guide or else he’s gonna have to retake the class, which really isn’t appealing in any way. He enters the bookstore, gravitating to the study prep shelves on the right. To his surprise, the only other person there is some tall, buff dude who seems pretty absorbed in Lucian textbooks. Usually the section’s swarmed with students during the break, but Prompto guesses no one else is drastically failing cosmogony like him. Who can blame him? It’s way more interesting to watch the leaves fall from his window seat than listen about past empires. All the potential shots he could’ve taken, gone in the wind. 

Squinting at the row of cosmogony books, he opens a thick one titled “Lucis’ #1 guide to cosmogony II,” in flowing script and quickly finds himself assaulted with thick paragraphs of difficult jargon. Yeah, nope. He opts for a thinner one called “cosmogony II for Dummies” in big, bold letters and finds some nice pictures and underlined key words. Yeah, this is _way_ more his style. 

“Hey, ‘scuse me,” He feels a big hand grip his shoulder, and he turns around to see that same big guy he saw earlier. “Do you know which grammar textbook would be better for a junior high first year?” 

Prompto freezes, caught up staring at the guy. He has a scar over one eye, wicked tribal looking tattoos running down his arms, and looks like he deadlifts trucks in his spare time.

“Holy shit, you look like the main character of a badass rpg,” Prompto blabbers, mouth open. His face slowly turns red as his mind catches up with his mouth. He opens his mouth to say something else, but just closes it with an audible click, opting to go for the choice that would probably make him hate himself less later.  The guy laughs, deep and booming, attracting the attention of every person within a 5 meter radius. Prompto just wants to sink into the floor with every passing second.

“Thanks, that’s a new one,” the guy finally says after he stops laughing. He wipes a tear away, chuckling. “What’s your name, kid? I’m Gladio.” He stretches a massive arm out, grabbing Prompto’s small and sweaty hand, shaking it vigorously. 

“Uh, I’m P-Prompto,” Prompto says nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry, I kinda blurt out whatever’s on my mind.”

“Bah, you’re pretty funny Prompto. Anyway, I had a question for you, seeing as you’re probably a student,” Gladio says, handing two blue textbooks to Prompto. Looking down, Prompto sees that one says ‘Intermediate Lucis Grammar, Version 9’ and the other is the exact same thing but version ten.

“My little sister wanted version 12, but they don’t have it here. She told me I can just “figure it out”, but she’s picky, ya know? So I figured I’d be better off asking someone who knows better.” Gladio grumbles, peering at the shelf. “ I have no idea why they have so many different versions of the same material anyway. It’s all the same stuff in the end.” 

Prompto flips through the book, wracking his brain for any memory of junior high Prompto’s knowledge. “Not gonna lie, I don’t actually remember what textbook I used, but usually it’s safer to go with the newer version.” He hands Gladio version 10, turning to flip through the other one. “It also seems like version 10 has more examples and bolded words, so your sister’s less likely to go nuts after hours of studying,” Prompto tacks on thoughtlessly, only snapping to attention when he sees Gladio chuckling. 

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. Now she can’t complain if I have another student vouch for it. Anyway, thanks for the help.” 

“No problem.” 

—————————————————————

Prompto stares blearily at the group of girls huddled in front of the counter, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn, earning a dirty look from the elderly lady next in line. He grumbles, trying to straighten out his appearance a little more. He hadn’t gotten any sleep last night after his interview. He could still remember it clearly-

“Argentum, it’s been a real pleasure to meet you. Frankly, although you’re very young, you have one of the best portfolios I’ve seen among our candidates and a real potential. Sadly, I don’t think you’re quite ready yet,” Mr. Silva sighs, rubbing at his stubbly chin. 

Prompto gulps, clenching his sweaty hands. “May I ask why, uh sir?” 

“Well sonny, the problem is your physique. Taking wildlife shots requires stamina and strength to carry heavy gear, make camp, and stake out spots to take shots at the right time. On top of all that, you need to be capable to take care of yourself because wildlife is dangerous. You’re still a young man, and I hope you understand that I’m just worried about your safety,” he says grimly, shifting his black rimmed glasses and leaning forward in his chair. 

Prompto bites his lip and looks at him squarely, trying not shift uncomfortably under Mr. Silva’s steely blue gaze. “I understand… but if I train my physique, would you consider it? I really don’t want to pass up on an opportunity.”

“... you’re really rarin’ to go, huh? I can see why experience would be valuable to you, but I can’t wait for a time period longer than two weeks- if I don’t think you’re prepared by then, then this job will be given to someone else.” Mr. Silva says with a note of finality, a sympathetic smile on his face. 

Prompto feels a crooked grin grow on his hips. “Thank you so much sir, you won’t regret it! I’ll be sure to be ready by then!”

Silva chuckles, stretching out a hand for a shake. “Well sonny, I’ll be looking forward to seeing you again in 2 weeks then. Good luck.”

-and now Prompto has two weeks to get buff and is internally freaking out. Yeah, he has faith in his stamina- he gets a lot of that from his morning runs- but he has no upper body strength whatsoever. If he ever finds himself wrestling with some voretooth on the job, he’s almost a hundred percent sure he’d go down like a limp noodle. 

“Okay, so I think we’re ready,” one of the shorter girls says, lips glossed pink and hair pinned up with a bow. “So I’ll have the pumpkin spice latte, extra whipped cream, added chocolate drizzle, name’s Lizzie. Wanda here will have the Maple Pecan Latte, extra espresso shot because she’s hungover. And Margaret will have the Cinnamon Dolce Latte, but no cinnamon, no whipped cream. I’ll have a grande, Wanda and Margaret a Venti.” Prompto doesn’t bat an eye as he takes the orders, having gotten used to the influx of customers during the break. 

“Uh, the cinnamon dolce latte is primarily made of cinnamon syrup and cinnamon flavored toppings.” Prompto says, scribbling down Margaret’s name on the cup. “You sure you don’t want anything else?” 

“Did you hear me stutter? I said without the cinnamon,” a taller girl in the back huffs, looking at her blue nails. 

“Yeah, I’m just saying it’ll be pretty bland since cinnamon’s the only flavoring? But if that’s what you want, that’s fine.” Prompto offers a weak smile. “That’ll be $13.75.” 

It’s nearing the end of his shift and Prompto has two pumpkin spice latte spills on his apron, caramel sauce on his elbow, and his hair looks like a rat’s nest. Noct had dropped by earlier, offering a helpful “you look like shit” during a lull in the middle of rush hour. They only got to chat a little before the pace picked up again, Noct leaving as he groaned about “more paperwork with Iggy”. Prompto could only offer a few condolences before the shop was swarmed again, Noct waving goodbye on his way out. 

“Hey, it’s you,” His head snaps up, eyes widening as he saw a familiar buff dude. “Nice to see ya again, Prompto.” 

“Oh hey! Gladio, am I right?” Prompto smiles wearily, “Did your sister like the book?” 

Gladio scratched his head. “Well-”

“Omg, Gladdy, is this the Prompto you were talking about?” a small girl with short brown hair and a plaid skirt behind Gladio peeks out behind him. 

“Yeah-” 

“You’re soo cute! I’m Gladdy’s little sister, Iris- I’m in my first year of junior high, so I’m thirteen. You must be in high school! Is it exciting? I can’t wait,” she says excitedly, shoving Gladio behind her, peering up at Prompto from the counter. 

“Yeah, I sure am. Uhm, well.” Prompto spares a glance at her hopeful face. “Yeah, high school is pretty good? I guess.” He’s not about to crush her dreams. 

“I kneww it, Gladdy I knew it! And you say it sucks!” Iris cheers, sticking a tongue out a Gladio, who in turn raised his eyebrows at Prompto. Prompto just shrugs.

“I can’t wait until I’m old enough to wear the high school uniforms- the girls get to wear bows and the cutest skirts and paint their nails!” Iris sighs dreamily, leaning her chin on her hand, elbow propped up on the counter. Gladio just sighs at that, simply shaking his head.

“Anyway,” Gladio clears his throat roughly. “Let’s not take up anymore of Prompto’s time. What’d ya want Iris? Some spice thing?” 

She perks up at that, squinting at the menu board. “I want a grande pumpkin spice latte, extra whipped cream please! Oh, and-” she turns around to Gladio, who looks at her warily, as if dealing with a hyper small chihuahua. “Gladdy, they have chocolate cake pops.” 

“You know you can’t eat too much sugar, Iris. We went over this in your training regimen.” Gladio huffs, arms crossed.

“Pretty please with a cherry on top, I swear I won’t have anything else sugary today,” Iris begs, lips in a pout.

“Yeah, that’s what you say everyday,” Gladio mutters as Iris pushes him forward, grabbing at his shirt. Gladio pries her fingers off, and looks in the other direction, refusing to face her direction.

“But Gladdy, it’s a chocolate cake pop. They don’t have it anywhere else.” Iris pleads, now opting to grab onto Gladio’s arm. Gladio looks up at the ceiling for a moment, like he can find the answers to life if he stares long enough. He finally caves in, and Prompto laughs, because Gladio’s totally big brother material.

“Alright, alright, don’t give me those eyes. One chocolate cake pop please.” Gladio sighs as Iris cheers in victory, swinging from his arm back and forth like it’s some kind of jungle vine. 

“Alright, that’ll be $6.75,” Prompto says, sliding Gladio’s card through the register. Gladio leans on the counter, looking defeated, and Prompto gets it.

“She’s gonna be hyper all day,” Gladio says as Iris skips off to find a seat by the window. “I guess it doesn’t hurt her energy levels in training, though. Just makes her lose concentration. Agh, I shouldn’t have bought it for her.” 

“Training? She does karate or something?” Prompto asks as he starts to make her drink, putting a little more pumpkin syrup than he usually would in the cup. Small favors, in the small possibility that this is the last sugary drink she has for a while.

“Oh yeah, you wouldn’t know,” Gladio mutters, turning to face Prompto. “I’m training in the Crownsguard, and so is my little sister.” Prompto nods and continues to make the drink, until the words finally catch up with him. Crownsguard?

Prompto nearly spills the drink, earning a chuckle from Gladio. “Whoa, what? That’s  _ really cool _ ,” he breathes, popping the lid on. “It’s no wonder you look like some badass game character, you probably train like one too,” Prompto says in awe, picturing Gladio swinging a huge sword in an arc, slicing off a ferocious winged monster’s head, guts spilling everywhere. Eww. That took a grotesque turn. 

“I don’t know what you’re picturing, but guessing from the look on your face, I can easily tell you that I do  _ not  _ do whatever you’re thinking,” Gladio says, grimacing as he takes the drink and packaged pop from Prompto. 

“So you  _ don’t _ slice down dragons with swords?” Prompto waggles his eyebrows, smiling.

“Nah, you’re right, I do,” Gladio laughs, putting a tip in the jar. “See ya around, Prompto.” and he and Iris leaves the store, Iris happily sipping her drink on her way out the door, stopping to give Prompto a small wave.

—————————————————————

It’s already the fourth day into his fall break, and Prompto’s taut with stress. He has no idea how to build up his physique. He’s started doing more pushups and lifting, but he doesn’t exactly own any weights heavier than water filled milk cartons, and he’s also pretty sure a garula weighs more than a couple of jugs. He figures he  _ could  _ ask Noct for help, because Noct has a pretty intense training regimen, but he also doesn’t wanna barge in and be like ‘hey bud, do you have anything that weighs more than two milk cartons taped on a stick?” Noct has better and more important things to do anyway.

It’s now 5:00 am in the morning, and Prompto is up as usual, gnawing on a stale protein bar as he ties the shoelaces of his battered running shoes. Thankfully, his efforts to keep them in good condition has paid off- he’d had them for years. Luckily he had the foresight to buy a pair too large for him two years ago, and now he fit them just right. Maybe a little snug, but whatever, he couldn’t buy new ones anyways. 

He straps his phone to his arm and grabs his water bottle. Sliding his earbuds in, he goes out, stopping to stretch a little on the sidewalk. The weather’s nice and sunny, though not too hot, and there’s a small breeze flowing. He figures today he’d try a different route from the usual one around his neighborhood- he wanted to go to the track he used to when he was younger, and maybe try some new exercises after his run. 

He takes up an easy pace, jogging in good time, and arrives at a nearly empty track. There’s only one elderly guy who’s walking their poodle at the far end, and a girl probably his age who’s steadily jogging her way back to the starting line. Stopping to stretch a little, he sets his water bottle near the bench and starts his trek at a decent pace, mentally counting the laps he ran.

By the time he’d hit 5 miles, the elderly man had wandered off, the girl’s packing up, and the only new arrival are a group of kids playing soccer in the center field. Some worn down goals are set on either side, one of the soccer nets dangling haphazardly from the corners.

He slows his pace down, satisfied with how his stamina is. It seems like he’s already doing better than yesterday, although he’s distantly aware that he’s ignoring weight training, which sucked. With weight training, he can’t feel the burn in his lungs, the breeze on his face, or enjoy the scenery. He’s pretty sure that being rooted to one position for ages and doing the same thing over and over again while enduring the strain wasn’t exactly anyone’s definition of  _ fun.  _ Well, maybe Gladio’s. That guy looked like he could do 100 push-ups on his thumb as warm up material. Speaking of Gladio, that hulking figure nearing the edge of the field looks a  _ lot _ like him.

“Heeyyyy, Gladiooo!” he ventured waving at- no yep, that’s unmistakably him. He seems to be seeing the guy at least once a day this week.

“Prompto?” Gladio says, jogging towards Prompto, who’s slowed to a stop. “Holy crap kid, I see you everywhere nowadays.” he scratches the back of his neck, clad in sweatpants and sports gear. 

“Yeah, I know.” Prompto huffs, wiping sweat off his forehead. “Anyway, what brings you here?” he asks, sitting down on the track to stretch his legs.

“Well, the training room's being remodeled at the Citadel, so I’ve been coming here to do my paces,” Gladio says, joining Prompto on the ground for a bout of stretching. “You do track or somethin’?” 

“Nah, just tryin’ to keep in shape. After years of running, it’s like second to breathing,” Prompto groans, attempting to touch his toes. “Although my flexibility and strength is shit,” he wheezes, finally managing to grab the tips of his shoes. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Gladio says, easily mimicking Prompto’s actions. “You’re pretty scrawny, built like a long distance runner.” he laughs at Prompto’s shocked expression, just stretching further. “What, never seen a flexible guy before?”

“Yeah, but you’re like, ripped. Usually they don’t go in the same department.” Prompto says in awe, feeling a wave of euphoria as a random thought suddenly lights up in his mind. Gladio was the very definition of fit, and Prompto needed to get fit, so it wouldn’t hurt to ask for help, right? He feels kinda insane asking some guy he’d met like, three days ago, but it was either that or lose his chance at a  _ really _ cool photography job.

“Hey…” he starts off uneasily, pausing when he got Gladio’s attention. Gladio looks at him, stretching his other leg. Prompto bites his lip, and plods on.

“… do you think you could give me some basic tips? I need to become a small version of you in two weeks or I might end up getting mauledorjobless.” Prompto says quickly, instant regret flooding his mind. “But like I totally understand if you can’t. Crownsguard and top secret stuff, yeah? Actually, you know what, forget I said anything,” he rambles on, and stares at the track determinedly, hoping that maybe he’d just disappear or something, if he looks long enough.

To his surprise, Gladio chuckles, getting up from the track. “Mauled or jobless? Well we can’t have that.” he grins, offering a hand to help Prompto up. “I don’t think you can become a so called ‘miniature version of me’ in two weeks,” Gladio air quotes, stifling a chuckle. “But I’m damned sure I can give you advice that isn’t ‘top secret’,” he air quotes again, this time bursting into laughter as Prompto pouts, ears turning red. 

“Anyway,” Gladio coughs, regaining his composure. “I like you, kid. I’d be glad to help.” he crosses his arms, turning a discerning eye on Prompto. “Tell me more about this job you’ve gotten yourself into later, and we can figure it out from there.” 

“S-seriously? Gladio, gee, thanks.” Prompto stammers in surprise, mouth open in shock. He didn’t except some guy he’d only met twice to help him, but here he is, proven wrong. “I really appreciate it, you’ve saved me.” he shakes Gladio’s hand in enthusiasm. Oh my god, he’s actually gonna get buff. This was gonna work out.

“Pft, I’m not sure you’re gonna still be saying that after I’m done with you.” Gladio scoffs, grinning. “Anyway, how long did you say you have again?” 

“Uh, a little less than two weeks.” 

“... shit. Well we’ve got a lot of work to do, kid.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never had a pumpkin spice latte :0


	4. Camping's fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a small world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I ended up splitting the chapter in half because it was really long-really happy that some people like this so far! I wasn't expecting it at all. Thanks to my sis, once again, and this went really slow because I tried cooking curry at the same time (I need an Ignis lol)

_ Gladthegladiator: Prompto where u at  _

_ Scrawnykid: Im on me way  _

_ Gladthegladiator: if ur late that’s another 100 reps kid _

_ Scrawnykid: nooooo _

That same day, they’d given each other their numbers and entered in their respective contacts, only to have a little spat when Gladio found Prompto putting in “beefyrandodude” as his name. They finally settled on picking each other’s contact, and of course Prompto had been left with “scrawnykid”. 

If anything, in the past few days, Gladio had become less of a random dude that gives casual advice and more of a hardcore personal trainer. Prompto’s pretty sure he saw Gladio’s eyes light up when he talked about how he envisions Prompto’s “scrawny body transformed into a decently toned, wild livin’ camper”. 

Anyway, Prompto’s glad it’s still fall break, because his muscles are aching everyday from their intensive training. He’s been forced to use muscles he didn’t even know exist, much less use on the daily. It doesn’t make him any less thankful though- Gladio’s been taking the time to train him at the track and even took measures to give Prom a temporary guest pass at his local gym. When Prom tried to protest and pay, Gladio gave him a measured stare and said something like “a trainer’s gotta give his pupil the best effort he can,” and all Prom could do was try not to feel like a freeloader and pretend he wasn’t picturing the cliché “kungfu master bestowing ultimate technique to wimpy student” vibes from the whole scenario. 

Prompto is really dreading today’s training because they’re finally gonna work on his arm muscles after days of working on other muscle groups. He vividly remembers when Gladio had asked him to lift up a dumbbell and when Prompto struggled to lift it, he let out a heavy sigh and said “we’ll tackle this some other time.” Later that same day, Prompto found out Iris could lift twice that same weight using one arm, so that was all fine and dandy.

Gladio lives in the nicer side of Insomnia and so consequently, is the location of the gym. Prompto has to take the subway more often than he’d like to get there, but he’s hoping the pay from his potential photography job can cover it. Either way, he’s happy because he’s pretty sure he’s found another friend in Gladio. 

Walking through the automatic doors, Prompto quickly scans the guest pass, flashing a quick smile to the girl at the register who’s seen him the past few days. She smiles back, offering a small wave as Prompto enters the gym, checking the clock. Yep, he’s late.

“Prompto, you’re late,” Gladio grunts, finishing his last push up. “I already got warmed up before you, so fifty more squats, twenty more pushups, and twenty more crunches.”

Prompto drops his duffel bag on the floor, bending down to stretch. “Gladio, fifty more squats? That’s like, gonna break my legs after yesterday’s workout.” 

“If your legs break, then I haven’t been doin’ my job,” Gladio points out. “anymore complaining and you’ll have more reps to do.” 

Prompto immediately zips his mouth shut. “Aye aye sir.”

Prompto finds himself struggling with all of the upper body exercises they do that day, especially the bench press reps. Gladio tells him to breath, to push his arms vertically up, but how can  _ anyone _ breath when a big, iron bar is descending on them? He’s pretty sure with every breath he takes, he loses strength, and with every breath he doesn’t take, he’s going purple in the face, so either way, he’s still dying. Somehow at the end though, Gladio gives him a pat on the back, nearly knocking him over, saying “that wasn’t bad, kid,” so at least that means he has to be doing  _ something  _ right.

After finishing up their training with five sets of pull downs, Prompto finds himself sitting on the ground in front of the gym’s wall mirror, having an easier time touching his feet compared to before. 

“You’re making steady progress,” Gladio comments, handing Prompto his water bottle, who in turn smacks his hot forehead against the cool bottle’s side, face burning up. He looks up to see the reflection of a freckled, red faced, moussed hair, sweaty kid looking back at him. He’s pretty sure he’s seen better days.

“Yeah, I look like a drowned rat,” Prompto coughs, attempting to twist the cap off his bottle and losing his grip, bottle tumbling into his lap. He stares down at it dumbly, vision blurry, unaware that Gladio’s pinning him down with a _ look _ .

“Prompto, I want to talk to you about somethin’ I’ve noticed,” Gladio starts, settling down next to Prompto. “The training regime I’ve planned out for you is something that you’re capable of, but everyday comin’ in, you already look wiped out. Which is why I’m bringing up this point,” Prompto swallows, mouth dry, looking at his feet. Everything Gladio says seems muffled to him, like he’s underwater, ears clogged. He’s trying to listen, but it just isn’t working.

“Resting is important for your muscles to heal from the strain. So if you’re not gonna rest, then that’s it. I’m not gonna let some kid get himself hurt.” 

Prompto’s head whips up, looking at Gladio quizzically. “Wha-huh?” He did  _ not _ get any of that.

Gladio sighs, looking at Prompto with a stern look. “Look kid, you’re not even listening to me. You know what? Drink some water, rest up, and I’ll see ya tomorrow,” and with that Gladio gets up, gives Prompto’s head a rough ruffle, and walks off. 

Later that night, he wakes up on the couch, just an hour before his night shift at the grocers, totally exhausted. He plans to quit his part time job there only after he gets his photography thing, but he knows very well that he needs this and the coffee gig to pay his bills. Rubbing blearily at his eyes, suddenly Gladio’s words ring clearly in his mind. “ _ Rest up,”  _ and wow, Gladio is right. He feels like absolute shit.

He furiously debates for a moment before he calls in sick, feeling a little guilty right after he hangs up. It’s easier for him to think of resting as a future investment, to take the sting off his decreasing funds. Hopefully, the extra free time he uses to train and rest can help him get that photography job. He doesn’t even want to think of the alternative.

_ Kweh! Kweh! _

He wills his aching arm to grope around the couch for his phone, and squints at the messages on the battered screen.

_ Gladthegladiator: hey kid so I have a better idea _

_ Gladthegladiator: let’s go camping _

_ Scrawnykid: is camping gonna make me buff _

_ Gladthegladiator: best kind of training for any job _

_ Gladthegladiator: is training like you’ve got the job _

_ Scrawnykid: I see master Gladio  _

_ Scrawnykid: thou art well versed in the ways of buffing _

_ Gladthegladiator: don’t go all Shakespearean on me now  _

_ Gladthegladiator: anyway, plan is camp next weekend, friday 4pm sharp  _

_ Gladthegladiator: I’ll fill in the details later. gotta go  _

_ Scrawnykid: aye aye captn _

Prompto can’t help but feel excited at the prospect of camping, despite his aching body. Just as he’s about to put down his phone, it buzzes again.

_ Kweh! kweh! _

_ Pillowwhisperer: P r Om helpme _

_ Pillowwhisperer: I’ve breen inthus meetingsvince 2:30  _

_ Pillowwhisperer: bout to dye ofbiredom _

_ Chocobutt: you’re typing under the table aren’t you _

_ Chocobutt: wut if they’re talking about top secret stuff  _

_ Pillowwhisperer: likeqwut _

_ Chocobutt: like aliens descending to make a pact with ur dad  _

_ Chocobutt: ‘Sir, we request 5 cartons of Kenny crow fries a day’ _

_ Chocobutt: But here u r missin out _

_ Chocobutt: cuz ur bored  _

Prompto can’t help but laugh when he imagines Noct texting under the table, surrounded by ‘haughty old geezers with stupid titles and too much free time’, as Noct likes to put it. A few moments pass by with no reply, so Prompto figures he should get up and finally take a shower, maybe do some laundry. He doesn’t smell that great after today’s workout, and a warm shower would do wonders for his aching muscles. Tossing his gym clothes into the hamper, he takes a quick shower and steps out in chocobo-print boxers with a fluffy towel draped over his head. His eyes immediately track onto his blinking phone, and he walks over to see it bombarded with text messages from Noct. 

_ Pillowwhisperer: thnx a lot everyone in the council saw me laughing at ur stoopid joke _

_ Pillowwhisperer: the meetings over now but my dad gave me the l o o k  _

_ Pillowwhisperer: and Iggy said I wasn’t subtle by ‘smiling at my crotch’ _

_ Pillowwhisperer: it’s all ur fault  _

Prompto snorts at that, wiping his head down. Serves Noct right.

_ Chocobutt: I live to serve :D _

_ Chocobutt: smiling at ur crotch is the very definition of subtle my dude _

_ Pillowwhisperer: I hate u  _

_ Pillowwhisperer: on that note I can’t hang out next weekend _

_ Chocobutt: :( im sorryyyy  _

_ Pillowwhisperer: it’s not u lol _

_ Pillowwhisperer: I gotta go camping to ‘train’ ugh  _

_ Chocobutt: srsly?! I am too holy chocobo _

_ Pillowwhisperer: rlly? Dammit I was gonna ask u if u could tag along  _

_ Chocobutt: sorry rip I’d luv to  _

_ Chocobutt: But I gotta go for training too lol  _

_ Pillowwhisperer: wut wait hold up  _

_ Pillowwhisperer: ur training? For what? I didn’t hear anything bout dis _

_ Chocobutt: oh yea, I’m doin it for a photography job I want  _

Prom waits for a bit for Noct to respond and gets on King’s Knight to get his rewards. He’s pretty sure he’s hasn’t said anything wrong, but it doesn’t help the butterflies in his stomach, now that he’s spilled the beans. Maybe Noct’s just actually paying attention to the meeting for once, like he should be. It doesn’t help thinking about it, so he tries to take his mind off the matter and continues to play King’s Knight, feeling a little guilty that he’s playing without Noct. His phone vibrates again right when he gets off, and he tries to take his time when he goes back to their texts, like he’s not frantic to read it or anything.

_ Pillowwhisperer: u know u could’ve asked me for help  _

Prompto bites his lip. He doesn’t know what that means, but Noct doesn’t sound happy.

_ Chocobutt: Im sorrryyy _

_ Chocobutt: but we can hangout again when school starts  _

_ Pillowwhisperer: agh Iggy is glaring at me _

_ Pillowwhisperer: ttylbro _

_ Chocobutt: cya dude  _

Prom closes the phone and sighs heavily, clumsily attempting to bend his charger cord just right so his phone could regain at least some shred of battery life. He feels a little bad about not asking Noct for help, but he doesn’t want to add “scrawny boy” to the glaring list of things that he’s already lacking in. Turning off his light, Prompto settles into his mattress, trying to sleep early. He doesn’t want to pass out in the middle of training with Gladio, after all.

—————————————————————-

The final bell rings, signaling the end of the day, which was in short, an absolute miserable day for Prompto. Today’s the cosmogony II midterm exam, and he’s pretty sure he did terrible. At some point, he just attempted to pick answers based off which architectural pictures resonated with his innate photographic nature. The rest of the time was spent drawing stick figures of the janitor outside who was struggling to rake the windy leaves into a pile. At some point, the guy had just lost his temper, throwing the rake into the pile, earning a chuckle from Prompto and a glare from Mr. Terra, so that was great.

“Hey, how’d you think you did?” Noct asks, slinging his book bag over his shoulder, leaning on Prompto’s desk. Prompto begrudgingly lifts his head off the desk.

“On a scale of 1-10, I’m feeling a solid 2.” 

Noctis scoffs and sits into the empty seat in front of Prompto’s. “It couldn’t have been that bad,” he settles his chin on the palm of his hand, propping his elbow on the edge of the chair. “For question 24, about that monarchy’s policies, what’d you circle?” 

Prompto thinks back, eyebrows furrowed in reflection. “Hmmm, I think A? I remember they were vaguely linked to tariffs or something.”

“See,” Noctis grins and claps Prompto on the shoulder. “And what about those 5 questions about that environmentally aimed treaty?” 

“Uhhh. I picked whatever had to do with greenhouse gases and rising sea levels.” 

“Prom, I bet ya probably did fine,” Noctis raises an eyebrow, pinching Prompto’s nose. 

“Hey,” he swats at Noctis’ hand. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” he cracks a grin, slinging his school bag over his shoulder. 

Noctis looks down at his watch, noting the time. “Well, we’d probably get going. I gotta be ready by 4,” he grumbles, getting up and stretching. 

“Me too,” Prompto says, “just lemme grab my duffel bag from my locker first.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“So do you know where you’re camping at?” Prompto asks as they walk down the hallway, heading for the entrance. As usual, the sea of students part for the two of them, and Noctis ignores all of them like they’re paint on the brick walls. Prompto still doesn’t know how he does it.

“Somewhere in the east Duscaean woods, near Leide,” Noctis says when they get outside, squinting his eyes at sudden assault of sunlight. “Gladio’s always wanted to camp there, and I’m almost completely sure he’s gonna have me fight a garula or  _ something _ .” 

They’re now outside in front of Ignis’ sleek black car, parked in front of the school gate. 

“Wait, what?” Prompto stopped, shaking his head. Did he hear that right? “Gladio?” Noct looks back at him quizzically. 

“Yeah, Gladio’s my trainer.” 

Now everything makes sense. Prompto opens his mouth to say “ _ wow, what a small world _ ,” but gets cut off at the sound of the car door opening.

“Prompto? You go here?” Gladio says, standing outside the opened car door. Ignis, seated in the driver’s side now turns his inquiring gaze onto Prompto. Prompto just nods.

“Holy crap, you know Prompto?” Noctis asks Gladio, getting a nonchalant shrug in return. 

“Yeah, he’s the kid I met at the bookstore.” 

“Ohhh.” Suddenly Noct whips around to Prompto, an eyebrow raised. “Dude, and you know Gladio?” 

“Yeah, I guess so. World’s small, huh.” 

They all stand in silence for a moment, the hum of the car acting as white noise. Prompto’s just ecstatic at the thought that he  _ is _ gonna hang out with Noctis this weekend after all. 

Ignis clears his throat. “Well, it all worked out, didn’t it? Let’s get going, shall we?” 

They all pile in, shoving Prom’s poor duffel bag in the trunk. Prompto and Noctis sit in the back and Gladio’s up front, acting as navigator. 

“You know, I figured something was up when Gladio said someone else was gonna join,” Noct mutters, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 

“Why?” Prompto grins, getting slightly giddy at the prospect of camping with  _ all _ of the people he considers friends. He just knows it’s gonna be a good time.

“‘Cuz Gladdy doesn’t have any friends,” Noct cackles, earning a glare from a Gladio and a hefty book chucked in his direction.

“Watch it sleeping beauty,” Gladio mutters, unfolding the map. “I make the training regimen, remember?” He chuckles when Noctis groans in the back, flopping dramatically back onto the leather seat.

“Don’t remind me,” Noct whines, frowning petulantly. 

“You know what this means,” Prompto laughs, feeling a warmth swell in his heart. “We’ve gotta have s’mores.” 

Ignis smiles, stopping at the light. “Noctis said the exact same thing last night. I’ve made preparations for them, of course, after dinner. ” Noctis cheers in the back, and Gladio simply shakes his head wearily, turning the map over.

“That’s right,” Noctis suddenly says in revelation, turning to face Prompto with a grin. “you’re coming.  _ Finally _ , a fishing partner. You don’t know how impatient Gladio is.” 

“I don’t know how you don’t fall asleep at the lake,” Gladio mutters, looking at the map. “Anyway, don’t forget this is training for both of you-It’s gonna be a fun time,” Gladio grins wolfishly, chortling as he turned on the radio to some nondescript indie music. Noctis sinks into his seat again at that, the spitting description of a ruffled cat.

Prompto offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile, squeezing Noct’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright. Probably.” 

—————————————————————

“Iggy, I seriously don’t understand why you aren’t already a professional chef,” Prompto sighs dreamily in between mouthfuls. He’s wolfing down the mushroom and meat kebabs Iggy’s dutifully prepared for them that night. 

“Careful Prom,” Noct says, giving Prom a weird look. “Those kebabs aren’t going anywhere.” 

“You sure about that buddy? ‘Cuz they could sprout legs any moment and just, I dunno. Run off. Be free.” Prompto rambles, grabbing another kebab. God, it’d been ages since he ate an actual  _ fulfilling _ meal, when wilting salads and crusty whole wheat bread was the norm for him.

“You’re right buddy, they should be free,” Noct says with a blank face, pausing to take a swig of water. “But they sure wouldn’t appreciate their kin being eaten by you.” 

“You’re right. I guess I should just eat them after all,” Prompto says, taking another bite of food as Noctis snorts.

“Did I say anything about how good you are at cooking, Iggy? Because your skills are seriously out of this world,” Prompto mumbles happily, mouth full. 

“Thank you Prompto, I appreciate the sentiment,” Ignis smiles, legs crossed as he leans back in his chair. “I do enjoy learning the culinary arts when I can.” He somehow still looks prim and proper, shirt ironed smooth and not a single gelled hair out of place. “... Although you  _ are  _ eating at a worryingly fast rate. Please remember to chew, or you may choke,” he adds, eyebrows furrowed. Prompto chooses that exact moment to choke on a chunk of meat, face turning red. 

“Look, it’s the kebabs’ revenge,” Noctis says as he smacks Prom’s back, Prompto coughing as Ignis quickly gets up to fetch a glass of water. 

“Omgyou’reright,” Prompto wheezes as Noctis bursts into laughter, earning a disapproving look from Ignis when he comes back with the cup. Prompto mutters a weak ‘ _ thank you’ _ and downs the cup, clearing his throat. “Wow, I feel way better.” 

Noct gets up from his chair and takes a moment to stretch lazily. “Well, I’m gonna hit the hay now so I can select the place  _ farthest _ away from Gladio.” 

They all look at the tent where Gladio had retired earlier after promises of a  _ fun _ time tomorrow accompanied with a toothy grin. Although they’re a good couple meters from the tent, his snoring can still be heard loud and clear, like the rumbling of a poorly oiled car engine. 

“Yeah, he does sound a little like a baby garula,” Prom jokes, earning a snort from Noctis and a chuckle from Ignis.

“You’re totally acting as my buffer Prom,” Noct grins, nimbly dodging a half-hearted swat from Prompto. With a languid wave, he escapes to the tent, disappearing inside. Ignis stands up from his seat, popping his joints as he stretches. “You’re welcome to retire as well, Prompto.” he finally says, retrieving the empty plates. “Leave the rest to me.” 

“Iggy, you’ve already cooked, so I’d like to help if you’d let me.” Prompto says, getting up as well. “I  _ did _ just wolf down practically half the kebabs.”

Ignis turns to him, offering a small albeit grateful smile. “Of course. If you could help me dry them, that would be fantastic.” Prompto nods eagerly and bends down to retrieve the rest of the plates.

“I see that this time, you ate nearly as much as Gladio,” Ignis observes after a moment of comfortable silence, washing the plates with the water they’d collected from the stream earlier. Prompto feels his face slowly flush red as he clumsily dries the pot with the kitchen towel. He must’ve looked like he was hogging all the food, and now he wishes he showed some restraint, or ate slower, or  _ something. _ A wave of regret threatens to overwhelm him, so much that he almost misses Ignis’ next words.

“-which is fantastic. Last time you came over, you ate so little that I came to the conclusion that you might’ve not liked my food,” Ignis says a little tentatively, watching Prompto carefully as he hands him a plate. Prompto splutters, nearly dropping the dish. He remembers thinking that he’d felt like he overstayed his welcome  _ way _ too often that week, and on top of that, he’d felt really bad about Iggy cooking for them every single time, so he just tried to eat less. 

“There’s no way I could ever hate your meals- your cooking’s amazing. I just don’t know how you do it,” Prompto says, continuing to wipe the plate. “I guess I was uh, really hungry this time,” he says, hoping his relief at finding that Ignis wasn’t angry wasn’t seeping into his tone.

“That’s good,” Ignis says, “I remember eating very little during exam week, so I assume that you must’ve been under similar stress.”

Prompto blinks at that, slowly realizing that Iggy’s actually just two years older than him, yet so impeccably put together. He looks at Ignis intently, putting down his plate. “Iggy, you’re like, eighteen, right?”

Ignis blinks and looks at Prompto. “I am.”

“So you’re in high school?” Prompto ventures, slowly dawning on him that even though Iggy carries himself with a lot of maturity, he’s still  _ really  _ young. He can’t even begin to imagine how Iggy does it.

The water stops sloshing when Ignis stops for a moment, lost in thought. “I underwent an intensive course,” he says after a moment, “so I could learn and properly fulfill my duties as Noct’s advisor.” Not for the first time, Prompto thinks Ignis is  _ really  _ smart.

“So is cooking more of a hobby?” Prompto asks, idly wondering if Ignis really gets any free time at all. 

Ignis looks as if he thinks more seriously about this, and when he speaks, he seems to choose his words carefully. “I’m not particularly keen on cooking, per say, but I do take it seriously, as a duty of mine to perform.” Prompto’s surprised by this, because Ignis cooks for them, almost all the time, so he just assumes that he likes doing it. 

“Well I’ve also always had a fascination with cooking magazines as a child,” Ignis continues thoughtfully. He turns to Prompto, a puzzled look on his face. “I’d like to ask, though, what prompts the sudden interest?” 

Prompto looks at him, struggling to put words to how he feels.“I, well, I don’t know how you do it,” he gesticulates helplessly as if it’ll help him get his point across. Ignis now turns to Prompto, watching him patiently. “What I mean is, I think you’re really cool.” Prompto finishes lamely, weakly wiping down the last dish. He doesn’t think he could’ve put it any more vaguely. 

“Well, I try to do my best for the prince,” Ignis coughs, ears red. “But thank you.” he smiles, walking over to put out the fire. “I dare say I think you’re cool as well, Prompto,” Ignis quips, earning an embarrassed laugh from Prompto. 

They both head to the tent and Prompto quickly finds himself snuggled inside his sleeping bag in between Gladio, who was snoring away, and Noct, who was already long gone.

“Good night Iggy,” Prompto whisper, seeing Ignis’s shadow take off his boots at the entrance. 

“Same to you, Prompto.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I find myself wanting to write Promnis and I think I was trying to reign it in during the last part lol


	5. Time to run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto goes camping, hits puberty, and runs for his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was worried about the pacing, but my sister keeps telling me it's chapter 5 and nothing's happened, which is valid, so I'm trying to speed it up. I went over this one too much and I'm still not satisfied, so here it is anyway!

“C’mon Prompto, put a little more back into it.” Gladio smacks his back straighter, almost toppling him forward. “Keep those knees bent, kiddo.”

Prompto wheezes in lieu of a response, lugging a massive bag containing all of Gladio’s prized Coleman camping gear up the rocky vista as a simulation of carrying heavy camera gear. He’s pretty sure camera gear isn’t supposed to be so heavy, but Gladio just gives him a look so he doesn’t bother pointing it out.

“Prom, we’re almost at the top,” Noctis says farther up ahead, adjusting his black baseball cap. Ignis is just a little further at the very front of the gang, carrying a cooler bag filled with lunch and kitchenware. As usual, he looks ridiculously composed for a guy in slacks and a striped dress shirt in the middle of a humid, hot, windy day.

“Noct, you said that two hours ago,” Prompto huffs, making his way steadily up as Gladio takes up the rear. “and we weren’t even a third up the mountain yet.” He finally catches up to Noctis, his sweaty hand grasping for a better grip on his bag. “I’m not falling for that again.” he squints accusingly at Noctis, sun shining right into his eyes.

“I swear it’s for real this time,” Noctis laughs, the little shit. Prompto looks at him, eyebrows raised in an unbelieving look.

“Probably,” Noctis says after a moment, snickering when he dodges a swat from Prompto. Prompto in turn stumbles and almost topples off the mountainside, causing Noct to dive after him and ultimately force Gladio to save both their sorry asses from tumbling down the mountain like two runaway marbles. 

One long lecture from Ignis later about “no horseplay on steep slopes” and a guilty apology from Noct, the gang continues to forge their way up the rocky mountain. Halfway through their trek they take a much needed lunch break, watching herds of Anaks cross the river below. The sky slowly turns into pink and purple hues and the sun’s rays break through the clouds, spreading a myriad of colors across the sky. When they finally reach the peak, the sight takes Prompto’s breath away. He can see acres upon acres of mountains and vast grassy plains dotted with roaming herds of voretooths and other creatures. Some groups of garulas leisurely lounge by lakes or meander through the thick brush and trees. To their left, he can see the outskirts of the Duscaean woods merge into the desert of Leide, a weird hue of brownish-green.

“Holy crap,” Prompto breathes, and promptly drops their hefty bag of camping gear. He reaches for his trusty camera that’s strapped around his neck as always. “This is amazing.” Spotting a medium sized boulder, he clambers onto it quickly in an attempt to get a better shot of the landscape.

“It sure is,” Gladio says proudly, hands on his hips. “See that valley by the lake down there? We’re going there tomorrow so you can see some wildlife firsthand,” he turns to Noctis, slapping him on the back, “and because old geezer over here wants to fish.” 

“Oh, shove off,” Noctis huffs good naturedly, and walks over to Prompto’s side. Gladio chortles and saunters over to the campsite to pitch the tent. They’d found a nice spot- the ground is relatively flat and rubble free- and the pine trees serve as a good windbreaker. Crouching down on the ground is Ignis, feeding the flames of the fire with pine needles and timber. 

Noctis clambers onto the boulder alongside Prompto, silently watching Prompto fiddle with his camera lens. “You really like photography, huh,” Noctis says quietly, peering over Prom’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, it’s my dream job,” Prompto says, scooting up a little further on the boulder to get better lighting. “There’s a lot of cool stuff in this world, so,” he turns to Noctis with a grin, shrugging, “Why not take pictures of everything?” For emphasis, he shoots a quick picture of Noct, receiving a grumble in return. He looks down at the picture, hand on his chin. “Not bad,” he says in mock seriousness, “except you look like an idiot.” 

“Heyyy,” Noctis complains half heartedly, pinching Prompto’s nose. Then he proceeds to lean his head on Prompto’s shoulder, leaving Prompto frozen like a rock. 

Prompto doesn’t think Noctis has ever been a touchy-feely kinda guy, but to be fair, he’s only known Noct for maybe half a school year, so what does he know? He tries to ignore the tingling sensation from their contact and still attempts to shift his shoulder anyway, if anything to make it more comfortable for the both of them. Noctis tilts his head up at Prompto and they look at each other in silence. Noct’s eyes are pretty to look at, like those beach shots Prompto sees of Galdin Quay, when it’s nice and bright out, and the water is so clear it reveals the coral below. Prompto’s gotta admit, Noctis is obviously born with some great genes.

“There something on my face?” Prompto finally ventures when the moment stretches out for too long. His heart’s doing weird things in his chest, and he isn’t really sure how he feels about it. 

Noctis blinks, as if snapped out of a stupor. “Nothing,” he replies, flicking one of Prom’s bangs to the side when he finally pulls away. “Why don’t we take a picture together?” He takes out his phone, opening the camera app.

“Huh?” Prom asks dumbly, still reeling from whatever happened earlier.

In lieu of a response, Noctis sidles up to him, slings an arm around his shoulder, and presses their faces side by side, snapping a quick shot before Prompto can even blink. He smiles instinctively, blinking in confusion when Noctis pulls away.

“Hey, we look good,” Noctis says real casual, face looking a little red. He turns to show Prompto the photo, who’s now reeling from the fact that Noct actually _ initiated _ taking a picture for once. 

He looks down at the camera, heart thumping nervously. Their familiar smiles fill the screen, faces smushed close together. His own freckled face fills half the screen, a crooked grin on his lips, ears slightly red. Noct, on the other hand, has a rare expression- a small, fond smile graces his lips, cheeks dusted pink. He’s handsome as usual, all messily styled hair, endearingly wrinkled nose, glinting blue eyes. The picture feels close up, almost... intimate even. Prompto’s heart clenches in his chest, leaving him feeling entirely blindsided, caught up in feelings that he doesn’t understand. Rather, feelings he doesn’t really _ want _to understand. 

Noct’s already jumped off the boulder, acting as if he was… well, himself, which makes the whole thing even stranger, because Prompto’s very aware that his face is turning a pretty shade of ripe tomato red for what seems to be for no apparent reason at all. And to top it all off, as if that wasn’t enough, when did he ever start thinking Noctis was _ handsome? _

Noctis leans on the boulder, eyebrow quirked up. “Well, what do you think?” 

Prompto coughs, clearing his throat nervously. “Well, it’s pretty good for your first photo.” 

“You mean, _ our _ first photo,” Noctis corrects.

“Okay, _ our _ first photo.” Prompto huffs, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly with a concealed grin. “but lemme just say firsthand, that photo doesn’t do me justice,” he jokes, crossing his arms.

“What? I think you look great,” Noct says, taking his phone out, looking at the photo intently. Prompto nearly chokes, his heart suddenly deciding it’s a great time to pump vigorously at a hundred miles per hour. 

“-with your chocobutt hair and all,” Noct snickers, quickly making his escape when he sees Prompto jump off the boulder in a threatening fashion. Yeah, what was he expecting. 

“Hey, my hair does _ not _ look like a chocobutt,” Prompto yells, chasing Noctis to the campsite. Internally, Prompto’s secretly relieved that his heart’s calmed down, deciding that it should beat at something more akin to a normal heart rate. He likes to think that it’s most likely heartburn or maybe… _ puberty? _

“If you kids don’t eat soon, I’m finishing everything,” Gladio threatens, mouth already full of Ignis’ delicious cutlet sandwiches. 

Noctis, in lieu of a response, nabs a sandwich and shoves it into his mouth as Prompto wandered over, sniffing the aroma. “Iggy, that smells _ amazing _,” he grabs one, settling into the camping chair. “What is it?” 

Ignis takes a sip of Ebony, setting the can down. “I breaded some garula cutlets and used whole wheat cleigne bread,” Ignis says, looking at a sandwich thoughtfully. “It’s a new recipe, so I’m not sure how it’ll taste, but I hope you all enjoy the meal nonetheless.” 

“Iggy, your cooking’s amazing, as usual,” Gladio says, leaning forward in his chair with a satisfied sigh, elbows on knees. “But speaking of garulas, we’re gonna go see some tomorrow - maybe get a little close up and _ personal _with ’em.” He cracks his knuckles loudly. Noctis rolls his eyes. 

“Wait,_ what _ ? I thought we were just like, _ sightseeing _, ya know, from a safe distance?” Prompto splutters, nearly choking on a chunk of bread. 

Gladio cackles evilly. “Oh, it’s gonna be _ fun.” _

“Rest assured, you will be safe, Prompto,” Ignis says evenly, shooting a look at Gladio. Gladio looks the other way and continues chewing on his sandwich. 

They all retire early after a game of cards, in which everyone discovered- to no one’s surprise- that Prompto’s a terrible liar and that Ignis has a fantastically wicked poker face. Noctis isn’t too bad himself, but by their fifth round he’s curled up in the chair akin to a cat, sleeping soundly. They all opt to clean up at that point and and call it a day. 

Prompto finds himself tossing and turning all night, haunted with a dream of being chased down by a herd of garula. He’s practically pummeled into the ground when the herd escapes in a frantic stampede from a giant, hulking form, looming so high up that the top disappears in the clouds. It turns out to be Gladio- he’s grinning evilly, wielding his greatsword in hand. The sky darkens as a black shadow crosses it, and suddenly a massive greatsword appears in the fog, sharp and glimmering in the burning heat. It easily slices through an entire mountain, slowly descending onto him, but he’s stuck in the dry, cracked ground, and he can’t move anywhere-

He finally wakes up, drenched in sweat, chest heaving as he stares at the sagging roof of the tent. On one side lay Gladio’s hulking form, snoring away with a deep rumble. He turns onto his other side to see Noctis facing him, his face a perfect model of one of those glimmering, svelte marble statues lining one of the many corridors of the Citadel. His blanketed form gently rises and falls with each breath he takes, and Prompto suddenly very aware that his heart’s pounding, his ears are slowly flushing red, and- _ nope _. He isn’t doing this today. 

Decidedly flipping off his blanket, he silently makes his way out of the tent, and catches Iggy already at the burner stove, expertly flipping an omelette with an open can of Ebony at his side. Prompto wearily plops into a chair, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn. 

Ignis reached over to set a plate of toast in front of Prompto. “Good morning Prompto,” he says, looking way too put together at 5:00 in the morning, “I see that you’re up quite early. How was your slumber?” He turns to look at Prompto, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “You look exhausted.” 

Prompto fiddles with his thumbs, looking up at Ignis with a tired grin. “I’m fine,” he scratches the back of his head, “Just up earlier than usual because of uh,

Ugh, what was he supposed to say? He scratches his head nervously, impervious to Iggy’s scrutinizing stare. He couldn’t exactly casually throw out, _ ‘Well I had a dream that a herd of garula crushed me into the ground, and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die today.' _ That was just a bad move in general. 

“Gladio’s baby garula snores,” he chuckles awkwardly, cracking a crooked grin at Iggy. He shrinks down in his seat, looking determinedly at the beaten plastic table. 

“Well,” Ignis turns back to the burner, “I always have extra ear plugs prepared.” He takes a sip of Ebony and leans on the counter. “After years of camping with Gladio, I’ve come to learn that indeed, his snores are astonishingly similar to a small beast,” he jokes, smiling when Prompto laughs.

Prompto digs into his toast, feeling a little better. Really, what does he honestly have to worry about? Everyone else has combat experience and multiple years of training under their belts, and he’s pretty sure they’ll help him out. He’s going to be _ fine _ . Everything would work out… _ right _?

Two hours later and running his life from a pack of garulas, Prompto decidedly figures that no, everything is _ not _ working out. He believes if they have to blame someone for their current predicament, it’s no questions asked, easily, most definitely _ Gladio _. Scrambling over the rocks and tree roots behind the gang, Prompto thinks back to just a few minutes ago…

“_ Finally, _” Gladio huffs, crouching in the brush with Prompto. Iggy and Noct are across the clearing, hiding in the trees. They’ve been watching the herd for a little while, waiting for them to disperse out of the clearing and more into the grasslands. 

“The alpha has wandered off into the grassland, taking most of the herd with him, which means one thing,” Gladio turns to Prompto with a wickedly devious grin, “we can go in for the kill.”

“...We’re _ killing _ it? I thought- okay, alright. Yeah, cool, everything’s cool,” Prompto whispers on borderline panic, trying to look calm and collected, but he’s gripping Gladio’s arm so tightly that his knuckles are white.

Gladio raises an eyebrow, looking at Prom with a disbelieving stare. “How’re ya gonna get experience with wildlife if you just look at them?” He pats Prompto on the back reassuringly, almost toppling him over. “Don’t worry kid, we got your back.”

Prompto gulps, cold sweat forming on the back of his neck. He rubs his clammy palms on his cargo pants, shifting slightly. “So, what’s the game plan?” he tries to say confidently, feeling anything but confident.

Gladio peers over the bush, pointing discreetly at a smaller garula that has wandered off to the far side of the clearing, sniffing at some weed-looking plants by a few boulders. “We’re gonna go for that small guy over there,” he shifts closer to the brush. “So here are some key tips about garulas. First, they’ll charge head first, so just make sure you don’t get in their sight. Me and Noct will handle that. Second, they’re weak in the back, so try to strike there with the hunting knife I gave you- you’ll have Iggy’s lead. Anyway, as long as you follow my instructions, you’ll be fine.” 

Prompto doubtfully peers down at the knife- it’s slightly curved at the tip and is about the length of his forearm. “So I’m supposed to smack it with this small thing?” He waits for a response, inspecting the blade. “Gladio?” 

He looks up to see Gladio already sprinting into the clearing with his massive greatsword out and ready, catching the attention of said garula. 

Stumbling over a root, he runs out in a panic into the clearing, watching with awe and shock as Gladio and Noct intercept the garula, working in tandem easily like well oiled gears on a bike. Especially everytime they strike, -what are those- shiny blue sparks seem to appear? And by_ Shiva’s tits _, did he just see a sword materialize out of quite literally nowhere? Prompto shakes his head, nearly tripping over a cluster of rocks. Now isn’t the time for him to get entranced - he has a job to do. 

Ignis is already ahead, light glinting off of the daggers that were in each of his hands. Prompto runs over to Ignis’ side who in turn acknowledges him with a curt nod, taking a position in front of him. Prompto feels a brief moment of reprieve, loosening his sweaty grip a little on his knife. If Iggy is with him, he could totally do this. _ Totally. _

“Just try to follow my movements, and be careful,” Iggy murmurs, stepping in front. He changes his grip on his daggers and strikes the back of the garula quickly, dodging when the garula whips around, sensing danger. Prompto stumbles clumsily to the side, following Ignis as Noct and Gladio regain the garula’s attention. Attempting to follow Ignis’ lead, Prompto shifts his grip on the knife, striking the garula whenever he has the chance and jumping away when it whips around. 

His first strike almost knocks the knife out of his hand- the skin of the garula is tough and leathery, so thick he feels like he striking a rubber tire. He slowly starts to get the hang of it, but he doesn’t feel any less guilty. Yeah, it kinda bothers him that he is trying to kill a living creature. And yeah, the blood splatter is slightly morbid and smelled strongly of iron. And yeah, his stomach is twisting in ways he didn’t know was possible, but everything’s going fine. He’s doing okay. It’s gonna be _ okay _.

They make quick work of it as Ignis strikes the final blow, a brutal slash to the left, so quick that Prompto almost missed it. The garula let out a terrified _ squeal _ for help when it dies, flopping over in a hefty thump on its side. Prompto stares at the creature in shock, hands trembling a little. He’s just _ killed _ a living creature. 

Prompto knows that he isn’t a vegetarian and he really loves the garula steaks Iggy occasionally makes on Saturdays, and that these creatures are killed to keep people fed. He just never imagined he would ever be…killing one himself. He swallows uneasily, trying to take deep breaths when he almost falls over from a tremendous shake rippling through the ground. 

“Wha-?” He looks over to see the other few garula that were in the clearing stomp over to the alpha. The alpha is a huge hunk of a beast- it seems to be almost twenty feet high- and has massive tusks that easily out spanned half his body. If he ever has to face a creature like that on his own, he’s pretty sure he’d just combust on the spot. 

Of course, which is when the monstrous alpha garula decides to turn around with a murderous look in its eyes, and Prompto gulps, because it’s looking straight at _ him. _ The alpha snorts with a growl and levels its massive horned head to the ground, pawing at the grass so viciously that it leaves streaking indents in the dirt. The action seems to incite the rest of the herd to become unruly, and the remaining garula congregate around their leader, releasing deep, guttural noises in a cacophony of mournful sounds. Prompto’s pretty sure that whatever’s going on is most definitely _ not _ a good sign. 

_ “ _UHhhh,” Prompto says nervously, backing up. “Guys?” 

“It seems as if the alpha was in fact, a female,” Ignis says calmly, shifting his glasses with his somehow still impeccably clean gloved hands. “And this garula,” he nods at the dead hump, “ was her baby.”

“Shit.” Noct supplies helpfully.

“Well,” Gladio says, greatsword disappearing with a flash. “Time to run.” 

“I suggest we cut through the brush and head for higher ground,” Ignis turns towards Prompto. “I’ll take the rear.” 

Next thing Prompto knows, they’re cutting through the forest, and although Prompto is a good runner, he’s never run through brush and low hanging trees. The ground’s bumpy and uneven with rocks, roots, and brush, making him stumble every now and then. On top of that, the occasional branch whips him in the face when he tries to watch his step, and he finds himself catching occasional stray bugs in his mouth. Despite all of this, Prompto knows he’d much rather be running in the forest than facing off an angry garula stampede, so he forges on. They race through the woods at a breakneck pace for what seems to be ages, leaving Prompto red faced from panic and one too many a leaf in his mouth. They finally slow to a stop as the noise of the stampeding herd slowly disappears and the ground stops shaking. 

“Hey,” Prompto pants heavily, catching up to Noctis when they finally took a rest stop near a grove of tall trees. “Is the herd really gonna follow us through the forest, with ya know-” he takes a breath, gesticulating at the woods behind them, “the trees and all?” 

Gladio stands atop a fallen log, scouting out for the herd and listening for noise. Noct leans against a tree, sparing a glance back. “Honestly,” he says between gasps, “I don’t think they’re _ actually _gonna pursue us through this kind of terrain.” 

“I’m not so sure about that,” Ignis says cryptically, wiping sweat off his brow. They all stand in a moment of silence, the only sound breaking the quiet that of heavy breathing. Prompto strains his eyes, squinting through the brush they’ve just passed through. They’re far away enough that he can’t see either the clearing or their violent pursuers anymore. He takes a deep breath and leans forward on his knees, taking this precious moment to catch a much-needed break. Gods, and this is all because he wants a photography job. He’s counting his lucky stars if he makes out of this alive.

CRRAACK! Prompto whips around to see a massive tree fall in the distance, not too far away from where they were. The ground tremors as a flock of birds scatter from the tree canopy, fleeing into the sky. 

“Ohmyastrals,” Prompto whispers, “we’re gonna die.”

“We need to find higher ground _ now,” _Gladio growls, and runs off at an even faster pace, breaking a path through the forest uncannily akin to a wild beast. Prompto quickly scrambles after, almost tripping over the fallen log in a heap of limbs.

The ground is visibly shaking now, leaves and branches falling from the trees they pass under. The thundering sound of feet crescendo with a steady beat, and trees are falling left and right behind them, the sound of their bark breaking akin to a thunderclap in a heavy storm.

“We can go up this way,” Gladio yells amidst the cacophony, pointing to the left. “It’s nearby.”

True to his word, Prompto sees the slope rising- a small precarious path following the edge of the cliff, about five or six feet off the ground. It’s about a foot wide, breaks off at the top through the woods, and leads to a plateau. It’s barely distinguishable through the thick clusters of pine trees, but even he can tell that it’s too high up for a massive garula to reach. The small path would ensure that they couldn’t be followed, and they’d probably have to tread through single file, but if they could get up there, they would be relatively safe from the stampede. 

“I’ll just clear a shortcut through the brush,” Gladio grunts, greatsword materializing in his hand.

“Wait a minute-” Noctis says right as a low rumbling growl comes from the brush ahead. A pack of striped beasts emerge with a rustle, leaves crunching under their paws. Their leader prowls at the front of the pack- a vicious looking thirteen foot beast with a deep, jagged scar running all the way from its eye to the tip of its long snout. The pack leader snarls viciously, glassy eyes focusing on Noct as spittle drips from its long, pointed tongue into the forest floor. Its tail whipped forward menacingly, glistening with some wet substance in the scattered rays of light.

“Guys,” Prompto whispers, voice cracking. “What is that.” 

“A voretooth, that’s what,” Noctis mutters under his breath. He takes a stance, sword flashing in his left hand with a shower of blue sparks, and plants his feet firmly on the ground. The voretooth lunges, spittle flying from its jaws, and Prompto sees Noctis swing his sword in slow motion, the world blurring at the edges and the sound of everything muffling like cotton filled ears, deaf to the rapid thumping of his heart. 

He snaps to attention when an impact slams into him, sending him flying into the ground with a thud, knocking the air out of him. His jaw knocks down painfully onto his chest, and the back of his head rebounds and thwacks the ground, thankfully pillowed by some leaves and brush. He groans and blearily sees a form rapidly approaching, instinctively rolling to the side right when a voretooth snaps its massive jaws where he was just mere seconds ago. 

He scrambles up to his feet, stumbling back as he takes out the hunting blade with shaky hands, breathing heavily. The voretooth prowls towards him in a menacing manner, about to lunge when a dagger pierces the side of its head and it falls over with a thump, blood pooling underneath. 

“Prompto, _ focus,” _Iggy yells, taking down another voretooth with deadly accuracy, daggers appearing in his gloved hands with sparks. 

“Yeah,” Prompto gasps, shakily breathing out. “Yeah.” 

Gladio gives a monstrous roar, swinging his sword with so much force that another voretooth quite literally goes flying into a tree with a sickening squelch. Another three beasts quickly take their fallen pack member’s place, cornering Gladio back. The ground suddenly trembles violently, causing him to stumble back to back with Ignis, who’s also facing off two other beasts.

“We don’t have _ time _for this,” Gladio spits to his side, wiping his mouth with the back of his free hand. 

Ignis takes a steady breath, shifting his gloves. “Only a few voretooth remain. I suggest we fend the rest off so Noct and Prompto may make way up. Quickly. ”

Gladio curses under his breath, swinging his sword as the tail of a voretooth whips towards him, toxic liquid dripping off its tail. “Iggy, you’re the brains,” he kicks another lunging voretooth square in the gut, “we follow you.” 

“Noctis,” Iggy yells in Noct’s direction, who’s just killed another voretooth, blood staining his blade. Noctis spares a glance back, moving closer to Prompto as he deftly batted another dangerous beast away. “You and Prompto must proceed up quickly. Gladio and I will cover, understand?” 

“Got it Iggy,” Noctis grunts, shaking blood off of his blade. “Well, after I clear these annoying little-”

“F-_ SHIT! _” Prompto screams as a sudden sharp pain shot in his shoulder, pinning him with a sickening wrench to the trembling ground. The said voretooth snarls as it shakes its head vigorously, jaws clamped tight on Prompto’s shoulder. Prompto wheezes, the flaming pain so overwhelming that he feels like he’s gonna pass out. He bites his lip as some kind of anchor to reality, drawing blood. The back of his head throbs painfully, but he still attempts to blindly grope on the ground for the hunting knife that was knocked out of his hand from the impact. 

He feels the worn leather hilt and grabs on just as the wretched thing starts to drag him across the clearing. He nearly vomits at the excruciating pain, chest heaving. He’s sickeningly aware of the rapidly growing blood stain and the wet squelch of a deep wound, warm blood trickling onto his neck and down his collarbone. His head is pounding, and everything sounds muffled, like he is deep underwater, helpless and… cold. He tries to control his breathing, gritting his teeth so painfully that he thinks they’ll break. Astrals, this is easily the most shitty experience he’s had in like. _ Ages. _

But there’s no way he’s gonna die here.

Mustering his strength, he grabs the hilt of the knife and plunges it into the voretooth’s eye, releasing it and rolling over as the voretooth screeches, writhing in pain. Its tail whips wildly back and forth, barely missing Prompto, who in turn slices it off with a scream, sending the dismembered tail flying into some brush by the path.

“_ PROM!” _ Noctis yells, suddenly kneeling by Prompto’s side. He crushes a flask in his hand over Prom’s shoulder, hand trembling ever so slightly. Prompto watches in sluggish amazement as his fiery, painful wound stitches itself back up, leaving the only reminder that he was attacked that of his torn jacket. The wound is gone, the pain is gone, but god, it still feels like it’s… _ there _. 

“Prom,” Noctis breathes, face uncharacteristically grim, so much like his father’s, “we’ve gotta go now.” Prompto nods dumbly, dimly aware as Noct practically lugs him up, almost dragging him towards the path. Prompto’s gotta take a moment, when he’s back on his feet. He distantly notes all the dead beast bodies strewn across the area, not a single living one in sight.

“How is he,” Gladio says gruffly as Noct reached him, Iggy immediately taking over to check Prompto’s wound. 

“I gave him a potion,” Noct says in clipped tones, gripping Prom’s arm so tightly that his knuckles turn white. 

Iggy looks at the wound, heaving out a sigh. “The wound seems to have healed just fine.”

“Yeah,” Prompto quips with a loopy smile. “I dunno what a potion is, but I’m all good-”

The trees lining the clearing crack with an ear shattering split. A billowing cloud of smoke and debris cleared to show the enraged alpha garula, eyes blazing with a… _ black mist? _

“_ Move,” _Gladio bellows as he planted himself in front, readying his greatsword. Noct hikes up quickly onto the precarious path, bits and pieces of loose soil crumbling under his boots. Prompto follows carefully, almost tripping on a… root? He looks down and sees the dismembered tail, bending down gingerly to quickly snatch it, carefully avoiding the dripping end. He isn’t sure what the wet stuff is, but he’ll avoid it anyway. 

Iggy’s already on the path, providing coverage for Gladio who’s in turn hefting himself safely onto the cliff ledge. The massive garula’s now writhing in pain, stampeding wildly in a loop and avoiding the cliff in fear of Gladio’s greatsword. Both eyes are wounded and wet from Ignis’ daggers, black mist and thick viscous liquid emanating from both of them. Its hide is marked with several long wounds, inflicted by Gladio’s raging swordsmanship. 

With a final, guttural growl, it rampages off into the forest, leaving a new path of destruction littered with dented footprints and broken trees. The rest of the herd flee easily as they see their leader leave the clearing, all will to fight gone. With a low rumble, the sound of the pounding of their hooves slowly disappear, leaving the four of them staring at a brutally torn apart clearing littered with bloody carcasses, toppled trees, and tons of dust and debris. 

“Well,” Ignis breathes deeply. “Let’s keep moving.” With that, the gang continue their trek up the widening slope, a thick silence and weird tension hovering in the atmosphere. Ignis hovers nearby and Noctis stops frequently, turning back to wait for Prompto, an unreadable look on his face. Gladio seems even more enraged than usual, and Prompto can easily guess why. Yeah, they’ve just escaped a life threatening situation, but of course he’s the only guy who’s actually gotten _ injured _ . He’s never felt more guilty about pulling them all into this trip, and he feels like an absolute piece of crappy, shredded, tired _ baggage _. 

He looks up the slope into the thick mass of pine trees and shrubbery, wearily wiping sweat from his brow. Despite the tense atmosphere and obvious danger, Prompto can’t help but think that all the beautiful scenery could make for a really great nature op. Especially the wildlife, well, of course taken from a safe distance. Although he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to see a voretooth any time soon, with their long snouts and nasty, pointed tongues- and, wait, wasn’t that _ totally _ one right up there, lunging at-

He shoves Noctis aside, grips the tail firmly, palm burning, and stabs the beast in the eye right as its tail slices his arm, through his sleeve, _ again. _ Ow. He twists his body and uses the momentum to shove the beast off the ledge, dropping the dismembered tail with it.

He stumbles to the side of the ledge as the voretooth’s body falls off the cliff, tumbling down the side. He can feel arms on him and words being said, but he can’t hear any of them. In that moment, that weird, psychedelic moment, Prompto feels like it doesn’t even matter, if his arm’s gonna fall off, or if he’s dreaming, or if the gang hates his guts. Actually, all that matters, as he watches that stupid, annoying voretooth hit the ground, is that as beastly as those things were, he still feels some regret. And they would totally, _ totally _, make a great photo op. 

Lastly, he turns to see Noct’s disfigured face, the world goes dark, and he’s out like a light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last time went hiking, I slipped and slid down a steep slope about 10 feet on my bum and hurt my toes, so I was trying to channel that feeling through Prom. I'm so sorry Prompto


	6. Fishing turns weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto is an idiot and fishing turns interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompto is lovable, but a bit of a dunce. Once again, really appreciate my sister for helping me out. :D

Prompto tosses and turns feverishly, body burning up. Is he sleeping by a gods damned furnace? And who thought it’d be a good idea to keep him covered in what seems to be _ piles _ of thick blankets? He wriggles side to side, managing to get one sweaty hand free to rub at his eyes, crusted at the edges and blearily looking up at a familiar scene-the top of their shared tent.

He covers his mouth with a slow yawn, noticing how absolutely rancid his mouth feels. Attempting to lift his sore head up, he tries to take in his surroundings- all the other sleeping bags are empty, and strewn about. There’s a roll of bandages and what he recognizes as Iggy’s first aid kit in the corner. Besides that, there’s not much of anything else.

His head plops back down with a grunt, body shaking from the effort. Everything feels sluggish and out of his control, like he’s moving through thick sludge at an agonizingly slow pace. Looking down at his bandaged arm, he attempts to lift it experimentally and finds that it doesn’t hurt, but his range of motion is probably like, five inches, or something. Groaning, he rubs at his dirty, matted hair with his free hand, stretching his arm. The tent entrance suddenly flaps open, causing Prompto to squint at the sudden brightness from what he guesses is the fire. Noct’s figure crouches down, holding a bowl of soup. His back turns to Prompto as he takes off his boots before entering.

“Hey,” Prompto’s voice cracks from unuse, “you’re supposed to _ noct _ first,” he jokes, cracking a crooked grin. His grin slowly slips away as silence ensued, Noctis turning towards him with the soup. 

Noctis’ face is shuttered and strangely blank. “Eat it,” he lifts a spoon filled with what’s recognizably none other than Iggy’s homemade hearty Leiden potato and vegetable soup. Prompto stares at Noctis questioningly, trying to make sense of this _ new _ behavior. After spending time with Noctis almost every other day, he takes pride in kinda being able to pick apart what Noct’s expressions. But this, _ this _ is completely unreadable. 

“Wait, Noct, I can feed-” a spoonful of warm soup is shoved in his mouth and he almost splutters. The soup’s amazing, easily one of the best meals he’s had in _ weeks _ among all of Iggy’s meals during this wild camping trip. He looks at Noctis, who’s sitting quietly across from him, barely on the edge of Prompto’s many blankets. He’s staring at him intensely, almost as if he looks away, he’d miss Prompto take another bite.

“...something on my face?” Prompto says quietly, voice lilting at the end.

In lieu of a response, Noctis just spoons another heaping bite into his mouth, and Prompto deflates, feeling a little hurt. The atmosphere between them is unusually heavy and sullen, and he doesn’t know _ what _ to make of it. They continue the exchange in complete silence and Prompto’s becoming more and more positive that Noctis is actually _ mad _ with every minute that ticks by. Noctis, in turn, watches Prompto eat in silence, his mouth set in a thin line and face studiously blank. After Prompto finishes, Noctis takes the empty bowl and spoon, and scoots over to the tent entrance to put on his boots. Prompto watches his back miserably, sinking into the blankets. Noctis moves to get up.

“Noct?” Prompto says quietly, his voice wavering at the end. Noct stills and sits at the entrance, but he doesn’t turn around.

Prompto opens his mouth when he feels unbidden tears prick his eyes. “Nevermind,” he finishes lamely, almost giving a sigh of relief when the tent flaps close. He burrows into his blankets feeling like absolute garula shit. He’d just gone and screwed everything up, didn’t he? He knows very well that he’s that one guy everyone has to take care of, who ruins the party, and ends up throwing up on someone’s precious family heirloom. Except this time, he’d asked someone to help, dragged his only other friends into it, and almost got himself killed. It couldn’t have gotten any worse.

He dejectedly shoves his face into the soft cotton pillow, rubbing his tears fiercely into the towel covering it. As he stares blearily at the green wristband on his arm, he takes a deep breath and resolves to apologize to Noct- no, to all of them tomorrow. At the very least, they deserve it. He’s gonna make everything right. It’s gonna be okay. 

Everything's gonna be _ okay. _

Prompto finds himself awake in the early morning, and hefts himself up, pleasantly surprised that he can now move his bandaged arm. He sits up in his blanket and experimentally moves his arm, finding that it almost has its former full range and no pain at all. Feeling encouraged by this new development, he scrambles to the tent flap, and shoves his feet into his untied boots. 

Getting up slowly, he brushes dirt off his pants and stops moving, seeing no one other than _ Noct, _ sleepyhead _ Noct _, awake at what has to be no later than ten o'clock in the morning. To say he’s shocked is an understatement. Noctis barely acknowledges his existence, and continues picking at his food. Prompto pretends his heart doesn’t hurt. 

“Oh Prompto, you’ve awakened,” Ignis says in surprise, the scent of coffee and cheesy omelettes pervading from his cooking station. 

“You’ve finally decided to join us kid,” Gladio huffs, doing push-ups on the ground.

Prompto plops down into a camping chair, smiling nervously. “Yep, couldn’t miss out on the food now, could I?” 

Ignis comes over with a plate of omelette and sets it in Prompto’s lap, critically eyeing his arm. “How is your arm? I wiped it down and gave you first aid.” He gingerly takes Prompto’s arm into his hands and nimbly unwraps the bandages. Prompto watches in awe at the unblemished skin that’s revealed with each unwind. 

“How, how did that happen?” Prompto breathes in wonder, gesturing towards his arm. 

“We gave you healing potions,” Ignis says, gathering the bandages, “which were made with the Noct’s magic.”

Prompto breathes in wonder, looking at Noct in shock, who’s in turn still picking at his eggs, shoveling them around his plate.

“Actually,” Prompto takes a steadying breath, gripping his knees tightly. “I, uh, wanted to say something, that uh, I think really needs to be said. To all of you.” Ignis sits in his chair, waiting patiently, and Gladio stops doing push-ups, sitting up on the ground. Noct stops shoveling at his eggs, looking up at Prompto with an unreadable gaze.

“I’m,” Prompto takes another steadying breath, “I’m so, so _ sorry. _ I know I dragged Gladio into helping me, and _ astrals _, I got in the way, and I know, I know that I screwed up-” he’s cut off when Noctis viciously stabs his eggs and his plastic fork punctures the paper plate, catching the attention of everyone. There’s a tense moment of silence, and just as Ignis is about to say something, Noctis stands up with so much force his chair goes toppling. “I’m going fishing,” he grunts, grabbing his fishing gear and practically stomping off the camping grounds, shoulders hunched over. The remaining three watch in silence, Gladio sighing and Ignis rubbing his temples, eyebrows furrowed.

“Uhm,” Prompto says miserably, “I _ really _screwed up, didn’t I?” 

“Look kid,” Gladio gruffly says when he gets up to sit in a chair. “You’ve got it wrong. Actually, I’m the one who’s sorry.” 

Ignis leans back in his chair, “You mean _ we, _Gladio, we’ve went over this.”

Gladio shakes his head wearily. “Yeah, I mean _ we _ are. Kid, you don’t have any reason to feel guilty. I didn’t prepare you enough, and well-” he gestures vaguely, looking lost.

“What Gladio _ means _ to say,” Ignis continues, “is that it was our _ duty _to protect you, but you still got hurt.” Ignis sighs wearily, “And you saved Noct's life, no less.” 

Gladio grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “In all honesty, you shocked me, bud. You’re a real fighter.” Prompto almost laughs at that, because he got tackled twice by a voretooth, dragged across the forest floor, and Gladio thinks he’s a _ fighter. _He still can’t stop the rush of relief that overcomes him when he realizes that they’re not mad at him after all, and he doesn’t understand why they care so much, but he feels important and cared for, just like back when his parents still used to visit him during the holidays.

Prompto gulps, eyes watery. Ignis turns to him with a kind smile. “Noct should be at the lake, past the grove. Why don’t you go talk to him?” 

Prompto nods and sets his plate aside, getting up with a shaky grin. “Thanks, guys. Lemme go talk to Noct.” 

He makes his way past the grove, spotting a massive lake, sunlight glinting off of the water. Noctis sits at the edge on top of a crop of big rocks, black fishing pole out and watching the waters. Prompto trudges down the slope, walking up behind Noctis, stopping for a moment. Noctis stills at the sound of the debris rustling under his feet, but doesn’t turn around.

He takes a deep breath. “Noct, I-”

“Prom, _ stop _.” Noctis says quietly, hands jerking on the fishing pole. The line goes lax, and Noct curses under his breath, reeling the line back in. Prompto’s never felt more nervous in his life.

Prompto tentatively sits down beside him on the mossy crop of rocks, trying again. “Noct, I’m-”

“_ Prom, stop.” _ Noct sharply turns to Prompto, his cerulean eyes rimmed red, eyebrows furrowed. He shoves his pole to the side, causing Prompto to flinch. “You just don’t _ get it _, do you?!” 

“No, I get it,” Prompto weakly says, trying to reason. “I just-” 

“Did you know,” Noctis snaps, “that you were poisoned?” He leans forward, hands clasped, glaring at Prompto intently. Prompto leans back subconsciously, gulping. He didn’t actually know, but he should’ve figured that out, in hindsight. He’s never seen Noctis so upset though, and he has no idea what to do. 

“And did you know that,” Noctis says quieter, hands trembling, “that, Gladdy drove miles to get an antidote, because,” he takes another shaky breath, “because you, you were _ dying _ .” Prompto stays silent and watches Noctis look down at the ground, taking a deep breath. Noctis looks absolutely _ miserable _ , and here he is, almost completely sure that Noct was furious with him moments before when it was clearly anything _ but _ that.

“And here you are, saying _ sorry _ ,” Noctis laughs incredulously, “when I couldn’t do anything, and you were just lying there, like...like a dead fish.” He gestures with his hands helplessly, eyes still tracked on the mossy cropping of rocks. They sit there in silence as breeze of the lake rushes by, blowing Noct’s messy hair up a bit. Prompto leans forward and silently picks at the moss, at a loss. Honestly, he just wants to do anything, anything to rid Noctis of the _ guilt _.

Prompto cracks a small grin. “But you like fish,” he jokes weakly, lighting up when he sees Noct give a dry chuckle, looking up at Prompto wearily. He leans in and grabs Prompto to his chest in a bone crushing hug, shoving his face in the junction between Prom’s neck and shoulder. Prompto grips back tightly, hiding a shy smile in Noct’s hair. They stay like that for a moment, rocking back and forth. 

“I don’t smell good,” Prompto abruptly says, his heart nearly thumping out of his chest. Noctis laughs, and the breath from his mouth tickles Prompto’s neck, who in turn tries to futilely ignore the tingles it sends down his spine.

“Just, just don’t do that again, yeah?” Noct pulls away, and grips onto Prompto’s shoulders tightly. “And you’re _ never _ . _ Ever. _In the way, or whatever bullshit you said, got it?” 

Prom sniffles, mouth curving up into a million watt smile. “I got it.”

They sit there peacefully as the sun slowly set over the lake, rays glinting off the waters. Noctis continues to fish, successfully catching a couple of alstor bass and lucian catfish with ease. Prompto takes out his camera, taking pictures of the napalm burnt sunset, the shadows of swimming fish, and the glistening water, excitedly thumbing through his photos. Noctis leans back beside him, rolling his neck as he arches his back. 

“Prom, you should take a turn fishing,” Noctis yawns, leaning back on the warm rock. Prompto looks over and sets down his camera, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. He gingerly takes the fishing rod from Noctis anyway, holding it unsurely in his hands.

“So like, bait and wait,” Prom says, and clumsily puts fishing bait on the end of the hook, tongue sticking out in concentration.

“Yep, and don’t reel in too quickly,” Noctis says, watching Prompto throw the line out, bait landing in the water with a plop. They sit comfortably in each other’s company, relaxing in the last rays of the setting sun. 

“Dude, you’re totally an old man,” Prompto says after a moment of silence, intently watching the lake for any sign of rippling. “Where’d you even learn to _ fish _, anyway?” 

Noct shifts closer to Prompto, stretching out his legs. “Well, I kinda learned it on my own, I guess. Found a magazine when I was a kid and I’ve liked it ever since.” 

Prompto hums in lieu of response, resting his chin on the palm his one free hand. “So it’s been a hobby for a long time, huh. Why do you like it?” He waits for a response, and adjusts his grip on the pole. Noctis doesn’t say anything, watching the shimmering water with an unreadable gaze. Prompto glances at him, a little worried, and looks back at the waters. “I mean, you don’t need to tell me. Or anything.” They watch the water in silence, the sound of the pine trees rustling in the air. Prompto changes positions and hopes to possibly catch an unlucky little fish farther from them, but still in the relatively shallow end of the lake.

Noctis leans back and looks into the red streaked sky, like he can find the answer to Prompto’s question if he stares for long enough. He opens his mouth, then closes it after some hesitation, mindlessly scraping the heel of his boots on the rock. Prompto waits patiently and squints his eyes slightly, the glare of the setting sun shining directly into his face. 

Noctis opens his mouth again, pausing a little. “I think I like it because,” he says softly, “because I feel like it’s something that I can-” he stops abruptly to look at Prompto, the setting sun’s rays shining on his face in a myriad of warm colors. He looks unsure and vulnerable, and Prompto looks back at Noctis, giving what he hopes is an encouraging nod. 

“-something that I can actually _ control, _” Noctis finishes quietly, looking down at the water lapping at his feet. Prompto takes a deep breath and leans in to wrap his free arm around Noctis in an one-armed hug, the two of them sitting there quietly.

“Lots of hugs today, huh,” Noct laughs weakly, leaning back on Prompto. 

“Yeah, but ya know,” Prompto says, voice a little strangled, “I really like them.” 

“Me too.” 

Prompto breathes out and looks over the waters, trying to put words to his feelings. “Ya know, Noct,” he stares at the slack fishing line, biting his lip, “I think you’d make a great king.” He feels Noctis stare at the side of his face, but he continues staring at the fishing line, or else he’s almost positive that he wouldn’t be able to finish this.

“You really care about the country, and on top of that, you’re,” Prompto blinks, chuckling, “you’re _ insanely _ good at politics.” He licks his lips nervously, taking another deep breath. “But if you ever don’t wanna do,” he gestures helplessly, trying to point out Noctis’ burdens without actually saying it out loud, “do _ this _ ,” he forces himself to look up at Noct, “Iggy, Gladio, and _ me. _We’ve always got your back.” 

Noctis looks back at him blankly for a beat, mouth slowly curving into a rare, shy smile. “Thanks Prom,” he says quietly, kicking at the water with his feet, “I appreciate it.”

Prompto grins, nudging Noctis gently in the side. “That’s what- woah, the line’s_ tight _,” he splutters, nearly toppling over into the lake. He stumbles up on to his feet and leaning back as far as he can, line locked and pole bending precariously from the strain. The pole slips a little through his sweaty palms, forcing Prompto to pull back even more vigorously. 

“Here, lemme help,” Noctis says, taking a firm hold of the free space in front of him, pulling hard on the other side. They both starts to slowly move backwards, the heels of their boots digging deep into the soil. 

“Whatever this thing is,” Prompto grunts, “it’s gotta be _ huge. _”

“Hopefully it’s a huge king catfish,” Noct says excitedly, pulling with even more vigor. “Those things can get up to- woah!” 

They fall backwards when whatever they’re pulling on suddenly gives way, emerging from the water with a big splash. Prompto slowly stands up after a moment, shaking dirt off his face and out of his eyes. Whatever that thing is, it has to be huge- it took the two of them to lug it out after all.

“Prom?” Noctis’ voice trembles slightly, immediately catching his attention. Noctis is just a few feet away, crouching by the massive, plant covered lug of a thing they’d just caught. Prompto walks over and crouches down, brushing dirt off of his pants. “What-”

His mouth audibly clicks shut at the sight on the ground, bile rising in his throat. A bloated human body grotesquely missing a hand and a foot lie on the shore, tangled in slimey lakeweed. Their skin is now an abnormal bue-greenish hue, thick fingers pruney and freakishly pale. Little crustaceans and shrimp stuck to the pallid body, some skittering off back into the water. But if that isn't scary enough, the face of the person was unrecognizable, _ inhuman _ even. Their eyes are beady and completely black, like the tar pits Prompto sees on nature channels. Dark charcoal veins stem from there on, spreading like spider webs across their ghostly face and into their neck. 

Prompto stifles a gag at the ghastly smell emanating from the body, taking a few steps back. He and Noctis stand up, sharing a look. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. They’d never catch a break on this camping trip, would they?

“I’ll go get Iggy.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went fishing once, but the hook got caught on my hood, and I nearly pulled it over my head... good times.


	7. Gymnasium shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis breaks the school rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you might've noticed the rating changed, and I decided I should because who doesn't want to write smut-wait, what? Aaaahhh. I also hope the beginning makes sense. I don't know.

After last weekend’s total catastrophe of a camping trip, Noctis is determined to do  _ something _ with Prompto that decidedly doesn’t include wild beasts, near death experiences, or dealing with the Insomnian police for two hours about some random, nasty, dead, bloated body in a lake. He’s currently lounging by the school gate, waiting for a certain blonde, chocobutt haired, freckled guy to come out of the school doors, but it’s already been nearly twenty minutes past their meeting time, and Prom’s  _ never _ late. It occurs to him to call Prompto again, but he’s called Prom’s cell twice already, and both times he’d reached voicemail. 

It’s still pretty early, so he shifts his school bag onto his shoulder and decides to walk back to the school. Ignoring the usual stares of his classmates, he heads in, looking down the nearly empty corridor. “Prom?” he yells, voice echoing down the hall. He passes the water fountains, rounding the corner only to nearly bump head first into a gang of guys that he recognizes as the three goons in chemistry lab that set off the fire alarm last week. 

“Ugh, Caelum,” the guy in the front spits, smacking loudly on some bubble gum. He rubs the back of his close shaven head, leaning in menacingly. “Your dad still stealing jobs from _ real  _ Insomnian citizens, huh? More and more fucking Nifs, next thing you know, they’ll be everywhere.”

“They’re refugees from the civil war,” Noct shoots back calmly, pinning the guy down with a level stare. He’s more than aware about the small, but inflating number of people escaping the Niflheim civil war. When his dad made the controversial decision to give political asylum to escaping refugees even though Niflheim and Insomnia were still officially at war, the media ate it up, and there were ambivalent reactions from both extremes of the spectrum. As much as Noctis  _ knows  _ reasonably that there’s plenty of wary citizens with good reason to do so, he’s heard more than his fill during council meetings. 

“Sure,  _ refugees _ ,” the guy says sardonically, “more like spies.” 

Noctis scoffs. “That’s why there’s a screening test,” he points out, knowing all too well that there’s no point in arguing with the guy. “Maybe you should get that paranoia checked out,” he can’t help but quip at the end, and turns to stalk off, feeling a little petty but  _ mostly _ satisfied. 

“You think you’re _ real  _ funny, huh?!” the guy yells heatedly, lunging forward. He almost falls backwards when his buddies quickly grab his arms, holding him back. Noctis stands his ground, more than ready for a scuffle. 

“Astrals, dude, you’ve already got a goddamn week of suspension,” his friend with the shaggy hair says, clearly exasperated, “because you were caught, with  _ my _ fucking stash.” 

“Ohhh, so  _ now  _ you wanna-”

The two start arguing, getting louder and louder, shoving at each other angrily. One guy shoves the other with so much force that he goes tumbling into the wall with a loud crash, knocking over a caution sign where some poor girl threw up yesterday. A teacher pokes her head out of her room down the hall and hisses at all of them to “ _ quiet down and go home goddammit”  _ and goes back in with an angry huff, slamming her wooden door for emphasis. 

The other tall, lanky guy turns menacingly towards Noctis, blatantly ignoring his bickering friends. “I see you’re not with your stupid Nif buddy. Better find him soon, or  _ who _ knows what’ll happen,” he says cryptically, grappling his arguing buddies into a chokehold. “C’mon you buffoons,” he growls, dragging them roughly out of the hallway. Noctis watches them leave, the words ‘ _ better find him soon _ ’ leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He turns on his heel and briskly heads for Prompto’s locker, heart thumping. Noctis is aware that there are a few students who don’t like Nifs, but it never occurred to him that people are possibly ganging up on  _ Prom.  _ More importantly, why didn’t  _ Prompto  _ ever tell him?

He rounds the corner and huffs in frustration when he sees no one at Prompto’s locker. “Prom?” he yells, voice echoing down the hall. The sound of the chem lab door creaking opens, and he turns to see if it’s possibly Prompto. Instead, Mrs. Buccio walks out, black heels clopping on the floor, turning around to lock the door. She startles at the sight of Noctis, holding a nail polished hand over her chest. 

“Goodness Mr. Caelum, you scared me,” she sighs, locking her door. “Why are you still at school? Remember, there’s a chem lab due- tomorrow, I might add- on the effects of temperature and concentration on pH,” she looks far too knowingly at Noctis, who in turn determinedly looks at the wall, avoiding her gaze. He’s totally forgotten about it.

“Anyway, you best be careful- there’s been another mysterious murder,” she sighs in distress, shoving her keys in her brown leather bag. “As a result, all after school activities have been canceled. Toodle-oo now, and go home soon, you hear me?” she brandishes a warning finger, hand on her hip. She waits for a response, thin eyebrows furrowed into a glare over her defined crooked nose. Her nose and no-nonsense attitude had effectively gotten her the nickname “old crow” whenever she wasn’t in sight. 

“Another murder?” Noctis asks, furrowing his eyebrows. “Where?” She doubles over at that, nearly choking. She settles down with an awkward cough, regaining her composure after a moment.

“None of your beeswax, that’s what,” she says with a tone of finality, crossing her arms. “You’re too young for this,” she gesticulates her hand vaguely, “this sort of topic. Anyhow, you’d best go home and finish that lab report quick, you hear me?”

“...Yes m’am,” Noctis replies, earning a curt nod from her. She stands there with an expectant look on her face, a small yet looming presence in the dim hallway. Noctis stands there awkwardly in futile hopes that she’ll go away, but no such luck. Honestly, he had no idea why she’s acting so strangely or why they’d decided to cancel after school activities- shiva’s tits, they  _ still  _ had afterschool activities that one time an arsonist snuck in and set the school field on fire, which was now mostly dirt and partially burnt black from the event.

“Well go on then, Caelum,” she says with a watchful look, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Go  _ on _ then,” she takes a firm step forward when Noctis makes no move, her stern gaze practically boring a hole in him. “Or I’ll call Ignis.” Noctis caves in.

“I’ll be on my way.” Noctis says with a thinly veiled sigh and walks down the hall slowly, turning the corner to the entryway. The minute he’s out of sight he does a u-turn, waiting at the junction until he hears the sound of her heels disappear. He peers out to check if the coast was clear, catching her back retreating into the teacher’s lounge. Making a mental check to avoid that place, he heads up the stairs instead, figuring he might as well try the library and then crossover to the gymnasium.

He tiptoes up quietly and passes by Mr. Terra’s office, feet subconsciously stopping when he heard the words “_student_ _murdered_”. Next thing he knows, he’s got his ear pressed against the office door. He holds his breath and eavesdrops, wondering if his hearing went whack. There’s just absolutely no way. 

“-it’s insane. I know, I know. We’re having to keep it quiet to the students right now, principal’s orders. Yeah, I know what you mean, I feel bad too, but he says it’d cause absolute  _ chaos _ \- yeah. We found the body in the gymnasium-” Noctis shifts, cursing under his breath when his bag slips off his shoulder, banging the door with a resounding thump. 

“...Who’s there?” Mr. Terra yells, and the sound of his rolling chair sets off alarm bells in Noctis’ mind. The noise of his polished shoes clack sharply on the tiled floor, and all Noctis can think is- holy shit, he has to do something, and do it fast. A stupid idea suddenly clicks into place, and next thing he knows, he’s already doing it. He grips his bag tightly and chucks it across the hall, narrowly missing the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, he focuses on the magic flowing in his body and tugs on it, like pulling a loose string from a ball of yarn. The familiar buzzing sense of energy fills his body, strangely similar to that time Gladio gave him a few glasses of his favorite malt whisky, but less mind fogging and inebriating.

Focusing on the bag, he warps to it  _ right _ before it hits the floor, the usual out of body experience making him feel slightly nauseous. He stumbles around the corner, closing his eyes as he tries to regain his senses, world spinning a little. Warping is still a working progress when it comes to combat, but he’s more than thankful there are no witnesses. The last time he warped outside of training lead to more paperwork with Iggy, longer training with Gladio, and an awkward, random, short talk about how he’s in  _ ‘puberty’ _ and has  _ ’no friends’  _ with his dad. He still shudders just thinking about it.

Mr. Terra’s office door bangs open and there’s a moment of silence before his footsteps echo in the hall. Noctis holds his breath, and silently scoots as far as he can from the corner, only releasing it with a sigh after the door closes. He slings his bag back onto his shoulder and quickly goes over the shocking news he’s just discovered. They’d found a body in the gym, some other student that- 

Suddenly, his heart goes ice cold.

What if it was  _ Prompto? _

Noctis shoots up on his feet and dashes to the crossover to the gymnasium. Digging his heels futilely into the tiled floors, he pulls at the doors, cursing when they don’t budge. Unfortunately, they’re already locked for the day, which means he has to find another way in. Peering out the window, he squints as he looks down at the first floor of the gymnasium, the metal doors locked and single paned windows dark.

Wait. He could totally do this. All he has to do is crack open the window, right? Nice and easy.

Ten minutes later, Noctis finds himself nauseous and panting from one too many warps, leaning heavily on the wall. Now that he’s in front of one of the many windows lining the school gymnasium, he wonders how in the  _ world _ he was gonna get in there. The windows are small, rectangular panels that are high up enough to prove a reach for someone even as tall as, he thinks, Gladio. Luckily, he’s chosen a window closer to a tree in a half-assed effort for some coverage. Tossing his bag on the ground, he rolls up his sleeves and started climbing clumsily, feet slipping a few times. It’s a slow, arduous process, considering Noctis has no tree climbing experience, and no mana left. He wishes now that he didn’t warp so many times, but he eventually gets up the tree after a few tries. Choosing a low hanging branch closest to the window, he inches forward slowly on his stomach, stopping when he comes upon a chubby little squirrel. 

“C’mon buddy, outta the way,” he whispers, feeling a bit ridiculous, and taps the branch to no avail. The squirrel sits there, head tilting to the side curiously. Not for the first time, Noctis lies there on his stomach, wondering how in the world he’d ended up on a branch in the middle of the day, talking to a squirrel. Either way, the squirrel doesn’t look like it is leaving anytime soon, so that means he’d either have to smack it off the branch or bribe it away. Which only means bribery, because there’s now way he’d stoop to smacking a squirrel off a tree. That’s just mean.

Shoving his hand in his pocket, he rummages around until his hand hits something kinda mushy. He pulls it out to find a smushed protein bar that Prom had given him yesterday, saying that it was filled with his favorite whole grains and legumes. He makes a face but unwraps it anyways, breaking off a bit for the squirrel. 

“Hey, it’s your kind of food,” Noctis says with veiled disgust, noting the nuts and pieces of legumes stuck in the mushy bar. He reaches out slowly and puts the chunk down as an offering near the squirrel. The squirrel watches him in interest and stills for a moment before scampering forward to sniff the bar. He slowly retracts his hand, relieved when he sees the squirrel start to nibble on it, picking the chunk up in its tiny paws.

“Great, can you move now,” Noctis asks quietly, watching with disgusted fascination as he sees the squirrel quite literally shove the abomination of a food in its mouth, cheeks bulging out to the sides. It suddenly scampers forward and snatches the rest of the bar from Noct’s hand, jumping onto his head and running down the tree, disappearing from sight. Noctis stifles a laugh, making a note to tell Prompto that whatever he likes eating is undoubtedly  _ squirrel food _ . Everything leads back to Prompto, doesn’t it? He stops for a moment and has to remind himself that Prompto _ is _ alive and healthy; the alternative doesn’t even exist.

Shaking his head, he inches forward until he reaches the window sill, and peers inside the dark room. It looks like the boy’s locker room, from what he could make out with the looming rectangular shapes and benches. Thankfully, the window pane’s already moved up slightly, so he pries his fingers into the gap, trying to ignore how the branch is bending precariously. He shoves upwards, grunting from the force, but the stubborn frame doesn’t budge an inch. Taking a moment, he tries again, huffing by the end of the exertion. 

“Shit,” he sighs, his hands probing around for something that was possibly stuck in the window frame, but nothing. The window’s just old, rusty, and shitty, apparently. Well that means only one thing- he’s gonna have to break in. Wherever Prompto is, he’d better be in there, because Noctis is pretty sure he’s breaking probably like ten school rules by now, trespassing one of them. 

Taking a deep breath, he prepares himself to break through, and tries to find a better position on the shaking branch. Finally finding some better footing, he shoves as much of his body weight into the window, expecting to end up on the ground with one beaten up branch and one decidedly not-broken window. Instead, the window pane completely falls through the frame, landing with a rattling clang on the floor. He flails, cursing under his breath when he tries to grab the ledge, legs clumsily hitting the wall with too much force. Looking at the small window, he takes a breath and hefts himself up and through, pulling his body in arms first.

His head pops out on the other side, hands blindly groping at the locker room wall. He peers into the darkness, clearing his throat.

“Prom?” he yells, grunting as he pulled more of his body through. 

“Noct?” A familiar voice says, and Noctis whips his head to his right to see Prompto awkwardly dangling from one of the top lockers, the scruff of his school uniform wedged in the crack of the locked door. They both stare at each other in bewilderment for a moment, Noctis halfway through the window and Prompto hanging from the locker. 

“Hey,” Noctis says helpfully, arms dangling uselessly. “I’m stuck.” 

Prompto laughs, gesturing his arms helplessly. “Me too.” 

They both break into laughter, Noctis snorting and Prompto giggling. They quiet down after a moment, neither of them saying anything. 

“The squirrel outside,” Noctis clears his throat, breaking the silence, “liked your protein bar.” 

“Awww, I bet it was a treat for that lil’ buddy,” Prompto chirps happily before his eyes narrow, looking at Noctis skeptically. “So that means  _ you _ didn’t eat it, huh.” 

“Prom, it had  _ Ifrit’s spawn _ in it.” 

“Legumes aren’t Ifrit’s spawn, Noct. They’re nutritious and healthy,” Prompto huffs, crossing his arms. 

They lapse into silence again, both of them dangling there uncomfortably. Noctis opens his mouth, figuring he should say something about the elephant in the room, but Prompto beats him to it. Prompto sighs, opening his mouth, pausing for a moment. 

“Yeah, I-well- some people don’t like Nifs,” Prompto says lamely, scuffing his beaten converses on each other. He looks down at the tiled floor, biting his lip. Noctis stays silent, watching him carefully. He’s not really sure what he should say.

He looks up at Noct in fake cheer, bangs falling over his blue eyes. “Sorry I didn’t answer your calls,” he sighs, biting his lip. “I uh, can’t reach my phone,” he says with a small shrug, leaning his head back on the lockers, “and I didn’t want to,” he fumbles with his fingers, pausing. “I didn’t want to tell you, because I’d look like such a hot mess, ya know?” he chuckles weakly, fumbling with his wristband- something Noctis notes Prompto often does when he’s nervous. 

Noctis blinks, pausing for a moment to find the right words. “You were missing,” he tries to say casually, looking down at the floor. “So I climbed a tree, fed a squirrel, and got stuck in a window.” He looks up at Prompto with a small smile. “Who’s the hot mess again?”

Prompto chokes, laughing into his hand. “You  _ climbed  _ a tree? No wonder you’ve got leaves in your hair.” Noctis shakes his head vigorously, watching a green maple leaf float gently to the ground. They both burst into laughter again, the tension in the room ebbing away.

“Okay, I think the circulation’s getting cut off,” Noctis huffs, trying to find purchase on the window ledge. He squirms uselessly in the window frame, legs in the air waving back and forth with no hold. Yeah, nope. He settles down with a discouraged sigh, ledge still digging into his stomach. He thinks he can  _ maybe _ warp once he saves up enough mana, but he also has a feeling he’d probably knock himself out on the floor. 

“Wait a sec,” Prompto mumbles, squirming in his school blazer. “If I can just get my foot…” he trails off, and reaches out with his foot towards the wooden bench, barely out of reach. With a grunt, he finally reaches it with the tip of his shoe, other leg flailing for purchase. Pushing on the bench, he manages to slide up on his back a little. He leans to one side awkwardly, attempting to wrangle one arm out of its sleeve.

“This. is,” he grunts angrily, “impossible-ooff,” his arm suddenly pops out of his school blazer, causing him to tumble over into the bench in a tangle of limbs with a loud crash. His wrinkled blazer swings from the locker door, dangling like a limp noodle. 

“Prom, you ok?” Noct asks with a wince, and watches Prompto rub his head, blonde chocobutt hair all over the place. Prompto gets up with a groan, and props his back on the bench, sitting cross-legged on the brown tiles. 

“Never been better,” he jokes, slowly getting up from the floor. He walks over to Noctis, looking at him for a moment before breaking out in laughter, nose wrinkled up all cutely, wisps of hair fluffed out in a mimic of a chocobo nest. 

“What,” Noct says blankly, heart thumping. He notices that it’s been happening a lot since the camping trip- there are moments where Prompto looks ethereal, like an actual personification of sunshine, and Noctis can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away. He’s told Ignis about his heart symptoms, but he just gets a deep sigh and ‘ _ it’s not heartburn, Noct, _ ’ in response, so he figures health-wise, he’s doing okay. 

“There you are, ya know, just dangling out of the window in the boy’s locker room,” Prompto giggles, taking a step forward to grab Noctis’ arms. Noctis blows hair out of his eyes, raising his eyebrows in a deadpan look. Prompto snorts and rolls his eyes. “Okay, so I guess I’m pulling you out?” 

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

“Alright, on three. One, two,” Prompto plants his foot on the wall. “Three,” he groans, pulling back on Noctis’ arms so hard Noctis thought they’d popped out of their sockets. Noctis wraps his hands around Prom’s arms, gritting his teeth as he feels the small window pane scrape his back when he slowly slides through.

“I think you’re moving,” Prompto grunts, leaning back. “Do I need to pull harder?” 

“Nah, I’m-”

Prompto wrenches his arms forward almost painfully, causing Noctis to topple out of the window right into him, leaving the two to tumble over backwards in a mish mash of legs and arms. Noctis falls on top of Prom, jaw painfully smacking his freckled friend’s chest with a resounding thwack. 

“Ughmpf,” Noct groans plaintively, lying there in exhaustion, back and jaw throbbing from the tumble. He can hear Prompto’s heartbeat thumping in his chest, beating quickly from the exertion. His face heats up slightly as he shifts over to press his ear against it, completely ignoring Prom’s utterly confused stare. The sound is nice and comforting, and with the warm light streaming through the window and the comfy rise and fall of Prompto’s breathing, Noctis really just wants to, right then, right there, take a nap. He thinks he deserves one, anyway. 

“Earth to Noct,” Prompto’s voice rumbles through his chest, pausing for a moment. “Are you sleeping?” he asks incredulously, laughter laced in his voice. 

“No,” Noct sighs sleepily, closing his eyes. “Just resting.” He lies there comfortably, and yawns a little. His short lived rest is abruptly interrupted when Prompto suddenly sits up, rolling Noct over to the side. 

“Noct, I’m not lugging you back home if you fall asleep,” Prompto huffs in fake annoyance, looking the other way. Noctis feels a small smile slowly grow on his face when he notes that the tips of Prom’s ears are a bright red. He’s never gonna tell him, but Noctis thinks Prompto has an uncanny resemblance to an adorable baby chocobo whenever he gets embarrassed. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Noctis laughs, and gets up slowly, stretching his arms with a pop. He offers a hand down to Prompto, who grabs onto it thankfully, a bright grin on his flushed face. Not for the first time, Noctis finds himself wondering why Prompto’s grins are so infectious, or why he’s just  _ really  _ adorable, for some unknown infuriating reason. 

Prompto walks past him to the locker with his blazer, hand rubbing his chin. Noctis follows and says very helpfully, “Looks pretty stuck.” 

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to get it out somehow,” Prompto murmurs, and turns to Noctis helplessly. “Any ideas?”

Noctis hums, reaching out to inspect the lock. “I could break it,” he finally says after a moment of silence, ready whenever to summon a weapon and slice it open. “Just tell me when you’re ready.” 

“Dude, we can’t just like, break it open,” Prompto sighs in defeat, gesturing helplessly. “I’m pretty sure that’s vandalization.” 

“Prom, I broke through a window.” 

“You’re right,” Prompto laughs in absurdity, rummaging in his pockets. “You _ did _ , you crazy law defying rebel.” 

“That’s treason, I’m the prince,” Noctis teases, watching Prompto in interest. “What’re you doing anyway?” he asks in curiosity right as Prompto pulls out two bobby pins from his pocket victoriously. 

Prompto looks at him, face slightly red. “My bangs are getting long, okay,” he says, embarrassed, and Noctis’ heart squeezes when he imagines just how  _ adorable _ Prom would be if he wore bobby pins in his hair everyday. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Noctis says, and wonders if he could get Prom to wear bobby pins later. 

“Anyway, I’m about to pick this lock,” Prompto murmurs, fiddling with the pins, “or at least try to.” He bends one of the pins in half and pries the other open, curving the end. Proceeding to stick the bent pin in the lock, he slides the curved one on top, tongue slightly peeking out in concentration. After a moment of fiddling, the door swings open and Prompto’s blazer falls down on the tiles, leaving the two of them looking down in amazement.

“Holy chocobo, I didn’t think that’d actually happen,” Prompto breathes, bending down to retrieve his wrinkled uniform. 

“Dude, you’re amazing,” Noctis says in awe, taking the pins from Prompto and inspecting them. He attempts to shape the pin back into a relatively straight shape as Prompto smooths out his jacket, shaking it out. Prompto looks up to see Noctis holding the bobby pin, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You gonna use it?” he asks, shrugging his jacket on. 

“Nah, you are,” Noctis says, and pushes Prompto’s bangs to side before gingerly sliding in the pin. He takes a step away to admire his handiwork before he notices Prompto’s face is completely flushed red, sky blue eyes shell-shocked. Noctis can’t help but smile fondly, his heart thumping hard in his chest. His hand subconsciously reaches out to hold Prom’s face, thumb brushing over the freckles on his cheek. Prompto splutters, leaning back to hide his face in his hands. “Astrals, Noct, what-”

_ Kweh! Kweh! _

They both look at Prompto’s battered flip phone, lying in the locker rattling back and forth. Prompto leans forward to snatch it, flipping it open. He presses it against his ear and mouths ‘Iggy’ after a moment, eyes wide.

“Uh, yeah, we just got held up at school,” Prompto says stiltedly, “I mean, exploring. And stuff,” he says with a wince as Noctis stifles a snort, turning to plop down on the bench.

Prompto bites his thumbnail nervously, shooting a panicked look at Noctes as he murmured in the phone, “Yeah, yeah, I understand, we’ll be there.” He closes the phone, and Noctis thinks Prompto’s never looked more nervous in his life.

“Iggy’s here,” Prompto says, and Noctis knows they’re both in for a long, long lecture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squirrels can be scary, vicious things. Saw one steal a sandwich from a guy.


	8. Gloomy days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis loses it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So school's started, so I'm relying on chapters I've already written... The ambitious goal is one upload a week lol  
Also I was real emotional when writing this so Noctis ended up having a crappy day... I'm so sorry Noct. It gets better in the end though!

Noctis wakes up without the help of Ignis, and it’s something he would consider an achievement, if it weren’t for the cause-the scar on his back aches, and the nerves are pinched in an uncomfortable jumble, like those stupidly intricate knots Gladio makes whenever he loads camping gear on his backpack. He really doesn’t want to be awake, especially at 9 in the morning during summer break, but he knows he’s not gonna get anymore sleep. After an hour or two of messing around on King’s Knight, he lugs himself out of bed anyway, feeling like absolute garula crap. 

Noctis is eating a very healthy breakfast of toast with copious amounts of butter when a familiar fluffy black dog comes bounding up to him, carrying a red leather notebook on its back. Noctis almost chokes on his toast, because he hasn’t heard from Luna in _ months. _

“Umbra!” The black dog preens himself on Noctis’ hand, a happy tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Hey buddy,” Noctis coos and rubs Umbra’s fur, scruffing the back of his ears. “You bring a message from Luna?” Umbra barks and wags his tail energetically side to side, like he understands Noctis perfectly.

Noctis takes the leather book into his hand and opens it to find a carefully pressed orange blossom, the distinct smell of citrus wafting of the page. Underneath it, in delicate, smooth calligraphy is Luna’s writing:

_ Dear Noctis, _

_ I hope all is well.Tenebrae has gotten quite… busy of late, and I sincerely apologize for the late response. Are you enjoying your very first year of high school? How are Ignis and Gladio? Recently, I tried some soothing chamomile citrus tea, and I think it would suit Ignis’ tastes. I hope we can meet again soon. _

_ Lots of love, _ _ Luna _

The door swings open and Ignis walks in, holding a paper bag of groceries. “Noct, are you ready yet?” he asks, bending down to take off his polished leather shoes. Noctis looks up and stares at Ignis blankly. 

“Ready for what,” Noctis grunts, and flips to the next page of the leather book, rummaging around in his school bag for a pen. He’s not really sure what to write, but he really misses Luna. The last time they met, he was eight, and he remembers playing hide and seek in the sylleblossom fields, the intricate arches of Luna’ bedroom windows, and the sunlight streaming everywhere throughout the manor. The memory still comes with a bit of bitter nostalgia, when everything felt easier back before Tenebrae was annexed. 

Ignis looks up at Noctis, unsurprised. “You have a meeting with your father,” he shifts his glasses, “half an hour from now.” He strolls to the kitchen and opens the fridge to put away the groceries. “I see you’ve received a message from Lunafreya,” Ignis says, and bends down to pet Umbra, who cheerfully nudges at his knee.

“Wait, what,” Noctis says, pen frozen in midair. Ignis looks up at him, eyebrows raised.

“You have lunch,” he enunciates slowly, “with your father.” 

“I don’t wanna,” Noctis whines, fully aware but not caring that he sounds childish. He looks down at the message again, and tacks on, “also, Luna says you should try,” he squints his eyes, “chamomile citrus tea.” 

“We’re going in ten,” Ignis says, and gets back up to clean Noctis’ plate, because they both know very well that Noctis won’t do it himself. “Please tell her I appreciate the recommendation-I think I’ll give that a try,” Ignis murmurs thoughtfully, scrubbing at the dish. Noctis knows his lunch fate is inevitable and decides he should try to shift his focus on writing a message back. He ends up putting a chocobo sticker on the page-something that Prompto had given him the last week of school- and writes:

_ Hey Luna, _

_ High school’s okay, but I made a new friend. His name’s Prompto, and he likes photography. Maybe I can send a photo next time. Gladio and Iggy are doing good-Iggy says he ‘appreciates the recommendation’ and will ‘try the tea’. _

Noctis stops for a moment, and thinks about what to write next. His writing looks like chicken scratch, so he figures, at the very least, he should write something meaningful. He adds:

_ How are you doing? Hope everything’s okay in Tenebrae. _

_ Noct _

He blows on the ink and closes the book carefully, handing it to Umbra. Next thing he knows, the magical dog’s gone in a flash. Noctis always wonders if he warps, like him. 

“Are you ready?” Ignis says, waiting by the door. Noctis gets off the chair and shuffles to the door, his back slightly hunched over. Ignis watches him carefully, mouth in a grim line. When Noctis gets to the door, he helps him pull his jacket on, and opens the door. 

“I’ve got heating pads in the car,” Ignis says on the way to the Citadel, eyes on the road. Noctis is grateful that he doesn’t mention his back pain out loud.

“Thanks,” Noctis grunts, and slouches in the back seat, already feeling weary about the upcoming conversation.

__________________________________

Noctis is already sitting at the edge of the mahogany table when his dad walks in, barely leaning on his cane, but he knows better. Noctis can still see the barely perceivable hobble in his step, and the small strain hidden in his dad’s smile when he sits down across him, waving at the maids. He turns to Noctis with a weary smile, and Noctis already feels miserable.

“Son,” Regis says as the maids rush in with plates of salad and cream soup, “how have you been?” he pauses for a moment, clearing his throat. “ Find public school enjoyable?” Noctis picks at the silverware, staring down at the depths of his corn cream soup. The clinking of silverware fills the room for a moment, and Noctis subtly moves his salad to the side.

“It’s okay,” Noctis says, finally shoving a spoonful of soup in his mouth. It goes down like stodgy cake batter. Regis nods, like the answer is more than satisfactory.

“I’ve heard from Ignis that you made a new friend,” Regis says, putting down his fork to look up at Noctis. “I believe his name is...Prompto?” Noctis dips his spoon, and watches it slowly sink in the soup.

Noctis doesn’t look up. “Yeah.” His back throbs painfully. 

“I’m glad,” Regis says, and pauses to take a sip of water. “Ignis tells me the two of you are close.” Noctis wonders how much Ignis tells his dad, and makes a mental note to have a _ talk _ with him later.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend,” Noctis says truthfully, leaving the unspoken ‘_ and my only friend’ _ hanging in the air. “He’s really good at photography,” he feels compelled to add, like he’s trying to show that his friend isn’t a gold digger. He realizes, a little late, that it doesn’t really have anything to do with anything. 

“I’d like to meet him sometime,” Regis says with a smile, and the maids come in with the main course, medium-rare garula steaks with green beans on the side. Noctis picks at the beans, sliding them to the side like they’re lethal. 

“I see that you still don’t like your veggies,” Regis laughs fondly, “they’re good for you, son.”

Noctis grunts in lieu of a response but tries to eat one anyway, for his dad. The noxious thing is exactly what he imagined it’d be: chewy, stringy, and a lot like moldy grass. He rubs at his hurting back idly, missing the flicker of expressions on his dad’s face. There’s a long moment of silence, and the air in the room feels tense, as if it weren’t bad enough already.

“Does your back still hurt, Noctis?” his dad ventures after a moment’s pause, leaning forward to cross his fingers at the edge of the table. Noctis’ head shoots up.

“No,” he lies, bewildered. “It doesn’t.” His dad looks at him in blatant disbelief, and Noctis’ back throbs even more insistently, like a buzzing mosquito on a hot summer’s day. He tries to ignore it.

“Maybe a physical therapist-” Regis starts to say, but Noctis cuts him off.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Noctis says firmly, and grips at his knees. His dad’s familiar green eyes look so _ guilty, _ and Noctis hates it. He knows very well that his dad’s going to always blame himself, so he futilely tries to erase the evidence, like that’ll help anything. They fall back into stifling silence, and Noctis watches his dad carefully. 

His hair’s already completely white, even though his dad’s only 46. Noctis knows that graying hair happens to people in their late 40’s, but he also knows that none of them ever have a completely white bed of hair. He’s pretty sure, anyway, because he stayed up the entire night moogling it two years ago, back when his dad’s hair turned completely gray. 

Regis looks back at Noctis, and there’s a moment where they just look at each other, as if they’re the only two in the room, in an isolated part from reality. Noctis sees guilt, love, and pride in his dad’s eyes, but to him, the lines in his face, the white strands of hair, and the slight slouch in his shoulders mean so much more. Noctis _ knows _ he’s aging at an accelerated rate, from the stress of constantly maintaining the Wall, and he hates it. He glimpses the ring of Lucii, and for a startling moment, Noctis can’t help but despise it.

“Dad,” Noctis finally says, “how are you?”

Regis looks at Noctis with a fond smile, like the question is silly. “I’m doing-” he starts, then breaks off into a coughing fit, covering his mouth with his hand. A maid rushes over to give him a white napkin, and Noctis watches in horror as he spots specks of red stain the cloth, like the fresh red roses he sees on his mother’s white marble grave.

“_Dad,” _Noctis says urgently, moving to stand up, but his dad waves an arm dismissively, like he’s not spewing blood at the dinner table .

“Son,” he coughs, “I’m fine,” he says, and Noctis feels something deep inside him snap, like a strained elastic band bearing too much weight. He’s heard that phrase far more than he’s liked for the last few years, but he’s never seen his dad cough up _ blood. _ It makes him wonder how long he’s been hiding it from him, and he quickly shuts down that train of thought before it can spiral out of control. 

“You’re not,” Noctis says firmly, and shoves back his chair a little more than necessary when he stands up. He can feel the weight of the maids’ eyes on him at the back of his head. Regis looks up, surprised, and whatever he sees on Noctis’ face mustn’t be good, because his expression morphs into something more tired, more weary.

“Noctis, really, we’re having lunch-” his dad says hopelessly, and Noctis cuts him off.

“I care more about your health instead of some _ stupid _ lunch,” Noctis feels himself say hotly, and he can’t really stop any of the words coming out of his mouth. It feels exhilarating and absolutely mind numbingly terrifying to show his emotions at the same time, but he forges on anyway. “Why do you need to wear the _ ring _ anymore?” Noctis futilely asks, taking a moment to calm down, “We’ve got more than enough trained soldiers to protect the Crystal.” Regis sighs like the weight of the world’s on his shoulders, and presses an aged hand to his temples. The maids quickly dismiss themselves from the room, and Noctis knows that there’s going to be gossip circulating the Citadel for the next few months. Regis waits for the oak doors to creak open and close before he speaks.

“You know why,” Regis says, looking at Noctis with a stern gaze, “it has been in our lineage for millenia, Noctis. If not to protect the crystal, then to protect our country.” 

“Niflheim’s in a civil war,” Noctis says, taking a shaky breath, “and the rebels are slowly winning. Highwind’s already announced she wants peaceful relations with Lucis. You won’t need to maintain the Wall much longer.” Regis just looks at Noctis wearily, as if he can’t bear to look at him much longer. Noctis pretends it doesn’t hurt. 

“The ring is _ much _ more important than you think, Noctis,” Regis enunciates slowly, and his tone brings Noctis back to when he was a kid, when his dad first explained to him what a chocobo was. He hates the tone but can’t help but wish they could go back to those times, when things were simpler, and his mom was still alive.

“Why,” Noctis forges on uselessly, knuckles turning white, “why is it so _ important _ , that you let it _ sap _your life-” Noctis cuts off shakily, regaining his composure. “Lucis is the most technologically advanced country in Eos. We’ve got more than enough resources to protect us, and now the Niflheim threat’s diminishing,” he tries to reason, listing off everything that he’d agonized over for years. Regis shakes his head and grips the edge of the table firmly, pinning Noctis down with a serious stare. Noctis clenches his jaw, as if it’ll prepare him for his next words. 

“A _ true king _ bears the burden of his people,” Regis says sharply, “regardless of the consequences.” Noctis feels as though his heart was pierced through, the implied message of his words sinking in the air like stale dust. Noctis feels tears welling up at the back of his eyes, but he refuses to cave in. Years worth of old anger’s bubbling up in him, and he has no option but to let it out, even if it’s ugly, rotting, and godsdamned _ stupid _. 

Noctis nearly slams his palms on the table in frustration. “Why does a king need some stupid _ ring _ to rule?!”

Regis suddenly stands up, shoulders stiff and grip on his cane bone-breakingly tight. “You won’t _ understand _, Noctis,” he says in the infuriating tone of his, like Noctis is five and still doesn’t know how to tie his shoes. Noctis bristles, hands clenched so tightly that his nails painfully imprint themselves into his palm.

“Why, because I’m still a kid?”

“Because you are the _ chosen king, Noctis!” _ Regis snaps, face morphed into an amalgam of frustration and sadness, and Noctis can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for putting that look there. He remembers Luna telling him the exact same thing, back when he was eight, and he still doesn’t know what it means at sixteen.

“Okay,” Noctis says numbly, “will you finally tell me what that means?” 

Regis slumps down in his chair like a deflated balloon, posture utterly defeated. When he looks up, his face is incredibly sorrowful, and Noctis doesn’t know why. 

“...It isn’t my place to say,” he says slowly, and props his cane on the side of the table. “You will find out when it is time.” A heavy silence fills the room, and Noctis suddenly feels stupid and absolutely miserable, stupid for ever bringing the topic up, and miserable because he put that _ look _ on his dad’s face. He takes a deep breath and schools his features into the same one he gives persistent paparazzi, a blank and unfeeling canvas, something he’s ironically learned from observing his dad over the years.

“Son, please, don’t give me that face,” Regis sighs dejectedly, rubbing at his temples.

“I’ll be on my way,” Noctis says stiffly, and quickly exits the room before his tears threaten to spill.

_______________________

Ignis doesn’t say anything on the ride home, but he makes porridge for Noctis and lets him rot in the living room couch, even though they both know Noctis has a stack of paperwork he should’ve looked over _ days _ ago. He leaves a blanket draped over the armchair and a glass of water with some pain relief meds on the coffee table before he leaves. Noctis is already grateful that Iggy even drove him back, because that means Iggy had to skip at _ least _one meeting for him. 

The scar on his back throbs insistently, and he turns over miserably on the couch, trying to shove some pillows under, like it’ll help alleviate the pain any. He lies there miserably, and listens to the sound of the clock ticking, the only sound breaking the silence in the room. Noctis would rather that he be alone, so that he can deal with his shit day by himself. Feeling bone-tired and emotionally empty, he tries to go back to sleep, because that’s how he deals with his problems. 

He’s pulled the blanket over him and taken pain meds when there’s a knock on the door, and Noctis almost curses. He burrows in his blanket and hopes the person will go away, but there’s another knock on the door, and Noctis grumpily pretends he doesn’t hear anything. He’s stuffed a pillow over his head when he hears a muffled, but distinctly familiar voice through the door.

“Noct,” Noctis hears, and he immediately feels a little bad. “You there?” Noctis slowly peels himself off the couch, and sits for a second from the sudden wave of pain, gritting his teeth. He finally gets up and shuffles over to the door, blanket dragging behind him. He unlocks the door and goes back to the couch, plopping down with a hefty sigh. The door clicks open behind him, and he hears Prompto walk in and take off his shoes.

“Heard from Iggy that you’re not feeling well,” Prompto says quietly, “so I brought hot pockets and some heating pads.” He lifts up a plastic grocery bag and gingerly sets it on the coffee table. Noctis grunts in lieu of a response, and curls up back on the couch. 

He hears Prompto step into the kitchen, presumably to put away the food. Prompto comes back and sits down on the single next to the couch, and pulls out some stuff, probably for his photography job or whatever. Noctis watches him over the edge of the knitted blanket, and feels his eyes slowly close from exhaustion.

There’s a burnt smell in the air, but not anything like the bonfires they have during their camping escapades. It’s more rancid, a bit like bacon grease, but it’s mostly acrid, burning the nose. Somehow Noctis knows, in the back of his mind, that it’s burning flesh.

The skies are burnished a brilliant, fiery orange, and the sickly sweet scent of nitroglycerin suddenly hits his nose, and he looks down to see the grass under his feet is burnt to a crisp. A large hand’s tightly gripped around his, and he looks up to see one of the maids, tugging him along frantically. Noctis recognizes her because she’s got a distinct mole near her left eye, and she always comes at night to tuck him in and read the occasional bedtime story. He tries to keep pace with her long strides, and he has no idea what they’re running from, but he knows they’re running from something bad and scary, so he’s got to keep up. 

Noctis is trying to bend down to tie his shoe, hand firmly gripped in the maid’s hand, when he hears a slick sound, like snakeskin on wet grass. He looks up and sees a mythical creature, one just like those dangerous beasts she describes in his bedtime stories. The creature’s an amalgam of half snake, half lady, and her scaly skin’s a weird blue color against her shiny black armor, a bit like the color of the sylleblossoms Luna likes so much. Her tail’s tinged red, and a hexagonal maroon pattern stretches across it, thinning at the tip. In each of her arms she wields a deadly scimitar, and when Noctis looks at her face, the grin that’s stretched across her lips is almost feral, like her unruly hair. Noctis freezes on the spot. He’s never felt more scared in his life.

The maid suddenly swoops him up into a carry and runs in the opposite direction. Her grip on Noctis borders on painful, and Noctis can hear her frantic heartbeat against his ear, his face pressed into the crook of her neck. He grips onto her tightly, and somehow he can’t help the impending feeling of doom overcome him, like he’s morbidly certain that they will both die here.

He sees the flash of silver before she lets out a bloodcurdling scream, toppling over with Noctis in her arms. They land on the ground with a heavy thump, but Noctis can’t feel any pain, because he’s shaking uncontrollably. He shakily pats her pallid face, and ignores the wet seeping warmth on his pants. She offers a weak smile, lips bloodied a deep red, and takes her last breath, staring right into Noctis’ horrified eyes. 

Even though he knows she’s already dead, he can’t help but look into her glassy green eyes, devoid of all life, and he knows it’ll haunt him forever. Noctis doesn’t have enough time to mourn, however, when her heavy body’s suddenly slinged off of him, and his vision’s filled with the mythical snake lady, and he can’t help but stare at her scimitar, painted red and dripping. 

His heart beat’s deafening in his ears when he sees her raise another scarily sharp scimitar, and he _ knows _ he should make an effort to escape, or do something, but his body’s paralyzed, and his limbs are no longer under his control. He can only watch in horror as he watches the blade descend slowly, and he’s never felt more terrified, angry, or _ hopeless _ before. The burnt orange from the napalm skies glint on her blade, and the smell-

“_ -Noct,” _ a hand roughly shakes him awake, and his world suddenly takes a dizzying turn as he’s pulled back into reality- a sweaty, aching mess on his living room couch. His chest feels constricted, and he looks up to see a familiar freckled face fill his vision, expression clearly worried.

“Hi,” Noctis says after a long moment, voice hoarse.

“You were screaming,” Prompto says as explanation, reaching behind him to grab a warm towel. He gently runs it over Noctis’ forehead, and Noctis feels a little less gross.

“Thanks,” Noctis mumbles, and Prompto just looks at him, gaze concerned and eyebrows furrowed. Noctis finds himself thinking that he’s glad Prompto’s an open book.

“Do you want anything to eat?” Prompto says tentatively, and brushes a strand of hair behind his ear. “Iggy made porridge.”

Noctis nods, and Prompto gets up to head to the kitchen. Moments later he’s got a bowl of warm porridge in his hands, and he half-heartedly shoves a spoonful in his mouth. It goes down warm and kinda sweet, because Iggy knows he likes honey in it. He figures he’s more hungry than he thinks, because before he knows it, the bowl’s empty. 

“Maybe sleeping in your room would be better?” Prompto asks, sitting on the coffee table across from him. “The couch’s a little small, bud.” Noctis is glad that he doesn’t probe. 

“Yeah, okay,” Noctis says, and he gets up with a painful groan, rubbing the back of his sweaty hair awkwardly. His black t-shirt clings to him a little, because of the sweat, but he can’t be bothered to take a shower. He stops at his door and turns around. Prompto’s disappeared from his sight, but he can hear the sound of the sink running. Not for the first time, Noctis feels grateful that he’s got a really good friend like Prom.

____________________________

He suddenly finds himself awake and staring at his dark room ceiling, the navy blue covers thrown haphazardly to the side. The ache in his back’s subsided to a small tick, and the sweat’s cooled off his body. He yawns and pushes himself out of bed, noting that it’s already night time from his window, the neon lights of Insomnia glimmering against the blanket of black.

Noctis cracks his neck and walks out into the living room. Prompto’s still there, fast asleep, head pillowed with his arms on the coffee table. His laptop’s out and open, on some kinda photo editing software. Photos are strewn across the table and floor, and a photo’s still in his loose handhold. Noctis peeks at it and it’s the picture they took at their camping trip, the two of them sitting on the boulder, setting sun rays shining on their happy grins. Noctis can’t help but feel a fond warmth in his chest. It’s his phone’s lock screen.

Noctis shakes Prompto gently. “Prom, wake up,” he says, looking up at the clock, “it’s 11:00 already.” Prompto groans, peeling his head off his arms.

“Wha,” Prompto says, and Noctis nearly laughs at the imprint of Prom’s wristband on the side of his face.

“It’s 11:00,” Noctis repeats, and Prompto’s head whips up so fast Noctis is afraid he’s hurt himself. He scrambles up and haphazardly pools his photos together, shoving them into a manila folder.

“What’re you doing?” Noctis asks, confused. Prompto looks up at him, face flushed.

“Uh, going home?” he says tentatively, like he’s not really sure himself. He continues to put his laptop in his school bag anyway. 

Noctis raises his eyebrows. “Prom, it’s 11:00,” he says, then adds, “in the night,” like that isn’t clear. “Just stay over.” Prompto nearly keels over, and Noctis has no idea why.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Prompto says, and next thing Noctis knows, he shrugging on his jacket and slinging his school bag over his shoulder. Noctis feels a little hurt, because Prompto looks like he doesn’t want to be here. 

“Prom, the bus stops running at 10:00,” Noctis points out, setting his hands on his hips. “I’ve got extra stuff if you need it.” Prompto bites his lip a little nervously and pauses for a moment before dropping his bag, a small smile growing on his lips.

“Thanks, Noct.”

When Prompto comes out of the shower, Noctis can’t help but stare, because Prompto’s wearing his extra set of pajamas, and he looks _ ridiculously _good in black. His hair doesn’t look like a chocobo’s butt for once, and it looks kinda damp but soft, like what Noctis imagines baby chocobo fluff would feel like. Noctis holds back the urge to run his hand through it.

“Dude, your shampoo smells amazing,” Prompto says, rubbing at his head with a towel, “like,” he pauses to take a sniff, “cinnamon, or something.”

“Prom, it’s lavender,” Noctis laughs, “you’re way off.”

Prompto snorts. “Lavender, cinnamon, same thing. You up for playing some King’s Knight?” 

“Sure,” Noctis grins a little apologetically and whips out his phone. “But I went a little ahead without you, sorry.” Prompto plops on the bed and looks at Noctis in feign hurt. Noctis rolls his eyes fondly.

“How’d you even get past that level,” Prompto mutters, tapping at his phone. “I keep falling into stupid traps.” 

“I barely passed it,” Noctis says, and leans his head on Prompto’s shoulder. It’s strange, how Prompto’s hair smells like his shampoo, but Noctis finds that he likes it. He pulls out his phone and taps on his character. “Wanna play it together?”

Prompto smiles, and looks down at Noctis. “Yeah.”

Hours later they’re both blearily looking at their phones as Noctis’ character deals the final blow, clearing the level. Noctis squints at the time at the top of his screen- it’s 2:00 am. Prompto yawns beside him and turns off his phone, stretching his arms and forcing Noctis to move his head. He moves to get off the bed, and Noctis gives him a strange look.

“Prom, where are you going?” Noctis says, confused. Prompto looks back at him, the illumination of his phone lighting up the clear puzzlement on his face.

“Uh,” he says slowly, “the couch?” he finishes unsurely, like it was obvious.

“Just sleep here.” Noctis pats the spot next to him. “It’s a queen, there’s plenty of space.” 

Prompto slowly gets back on the bed, like he hasn’t been sitting there the past four hours. His face is flushed a little pink, and Noctis doesn’t know why Prompto’s embarrassed, but it’s making him feel self-conscious too. They lie there in the dark, facing each other, and although Noctis can’t see Prompto very well, the moonlight from his window just catches onto Prompto’s light blue eyes, a lot like the summer sky. The two of them simply watch each other for a moment, and Noctis realizes the ache in his back is gone.

“Your back feeling better?” Prompto asks quietly, his voice breaking the silence in the room.

Noctis blinks. “Yeah, it does.”

Prompto nods and smiles, shuffling a little under Noctis’ blanket. He looks like he wants to say something, but decides against it before opening his mouth again. “Noct,” he says, and pauses for a moment, like he’s still deciding what he wants to say.

“Yeah?” Noctis hope his tone is encouraging.

Prompto takes a breath and look at Noctis, a crooked smile on his lips. “You can always tell me anything, bud. Whenever you feel like it, I’m here,” he says sincerely, and Noctis gives the smallest of nods, sliding the blanket a little higher.

They lie there in a comfortable silence and Noctis stares at a fraying thread on the edge of his blanket. He doesn’t really want to unload on Prompto, because he knows _ very well _ that he’s the prince, and most people think being royalty means having a privileged life. But he also knows that whenever he’s with Prompto, he feels like a normal kid, and he _knows_ Prom treats him like any other guy, and he’s more than grateful for that. Noctis figures that in the end, he _does_ want to tell Prompto, after all.

“When I was a kid,” Noctis whispers, pausing for a moment, “I got attacked by a marilith.” Prompto listens silently, watching Noctis carefully. Noctis feels very out of his element, but forges on anyway. “And uh, I got wounded,” he says quietly, and takes a moment to clear his throat. “On my back.” 

Prompto’s hand slides out of the covers to grip his, and Noctis just goes along with it, because he likes the feeling.

“It must’ve been really scary,” Prompto whispers back, and Noctis shudders from the memory. It still haunts him, just like he knew it would.

“My dad saved me,” Noctis trails off, reliving today’s earlier catastrophe. He doesn’t really know how he feels about it, but he knows that it was a conversation that was bound to happen sooner or later. Most of all, Noctis wishes he had more time left with his dad, because if his time isn’t limited enough by his duties, then it’s limited by the ring. 

“Noct?” Noctis looks at Prompto. Prompto looks back at him, gaze sincere and trusting. 

“My dad’s dying, Prom,” he ends up saying, and he doesn’t really know why, but it feels much more real, now that he’s said it out loud. It hangs in the air, and the tension is so thick, Noctis thinks he could cut it with a knife. For the first time, Prompto’s expression is unreadable, and Noctis doesn’t know what’s gonna happen next. However, there’s an annoying sense of dread lingering at the back of his mind, and he can’t help but feel vulnerable, but it also feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. 

The last thing he expects are arms wrapped around him in a warm, firm hug, and the soft press of lips to his forehead. He can feel his ears flush red, and his face is pressed against Prompto’s chest. They stay like that for a long, quiet moment and Noctis has never felt so calm from the unmistakable scent of his own body wash. He kinda wishes they could do this forever.

“OhmygodI’msosorry.” Prompto suddenly shoves Noctis away, face flaming red, and covers his face with his hands, slowly sliding down under the blanket. 

Noctis blinks. “What?” Prompto almost chokes.

“My mom used to do that,” Prompto says instead, face flaming red. He fiddles awkwardly with the edge of the blanket, hair fluffed up. “and uh. My body just moved on it’s own. Sorry, ugh, I don’t know what came over me-”

Noctis laughs, and he can’t help but reach over and pinch Prompto’s nose. “I liked it.” Prompto stops stuttering, and a small, shy smile grows on his lips. There’s a small, intimate moment of silence, and Noctis watches Prompto’s expression turn from something into more serious. 

“Noct, I’m glad you opened up to me,” Prompto says sincerely, and for some reason, at that moment, in the dark of Noctis’ room under the blankets, everything clicks together, like the last piece of a long, overly complicated puzzle.

He _ likes _ Prompto.

And that thought just worms its way into his head, and he can’t help but feel a genuine, happy little smile stretch across his lips, something he hadn’t done for a long while. “Prom, you know you can tell me anything, right?” Noctis says, a small smile on his lips.

Prompto laughs. “Yeah, I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chronic pain sucks like poop. Also wanted to say I'm genuinely surprised from the feedback and love... like wow


	9. It's a date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis goes on a date with Prompto... or does he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back with a fluffy chapter...this was a hot mess but I had a great time writing it >:D

Noctis is staring at his soggy cereal, stirring mindlessly at the sludge. He looks across the wooden dining table, and Iggy’s going through paperwork, a steaming hot mug of coffee at his side. It’s around 11:00, and the sun is shining through the window, scattering rays of light across the grain of wood. He looks at the shortbread cookies that Ignis made an hour ago, set on a little platter, and can’t help but think that their golden color is really similar to Prompto’s fluffy chocobutt hair. The silence in the air is comfortable, and the kitchen smells like cinnamon and butter, but Noctis feels like talking, so he thinks of a conversation starter.

“I like Prom,” Noctis says, and takes a bite of his cereal. Tastes a bit like cinnamon mush.

Ignis doesn’t even look up from his stack of paperwork. Noctis figures it wasn’t that surprising of an announcement, and continues anyway. He stirs at the cereal, watching the milk turn murky. “I asked him out on a date today, and I’m not sure if I should wear the striped short sleeve, or the one Gladio got me last year that ‘makes my eyes stand out’,” he air quotes, and goes back in for another mushy bite.

Ignis flips a page, and takes a sip from his mug. “I believe the black v-neck is a better choice,” he says without batting an eye, and when he looks up at Noctis, his expression is almost insultingly deadpan. “May I ask, does Prompto know _ this _,” he gestures vaguely, “is uh, ehm, a date?”

Noctis stops chewing. “Yeah, I said it was a date,” he says, mouth half full of food, and some cereal goes flying onto the table. Ignis simply grabs a napkin from the side and hands it to Noctis, who sheepishly rubs at his mouth.

“So how did Prompto react?” Ignis says, and closes his manila folder with a sigh, leaning on the table. Noctis furrows his brows as he tries to think back to last weekend. It must’ve been something pretty normal, or else he’s sure he’d remember it.

“Hmmm, something like, ‘_ Sounds good Noct, see you at 3! _’” he imitates Prompto’s voice, and is slightly put off, so he eats a cookie, because it reminds him of Prompto. He misses Ignis rubbing at his temples.

“Noctis, I hate to say this,” Ignis intones, voice flat, “but I have a sneaking suspicion that Prompto does _ not _ know this is a date.” Noctis’ head whips up, cookie halfway in his mouth.

“What, why?” 

Ignis just looks him with a very blank expression, like Noctis is missing something very obvious, and Noctis almost feels insulted.

“Okay, so what_ exactly _ did you say, Noct?” Ignis sighs after a long pause, and Noctis feels like he failed some kind of hidden test.

“I said, ‘_ arcade date Tuesday, usual time? _’” Noctis says, exasperated. “Iggy, I don’t think I could’ve been much clearer.” 

Iggy looks up at the ceiling for a long moment, and Noctis really doesn’t know why he’s being so melodramatic. 

“Nevermind,” Ignis finally says, and looks back at Noctis, “but I beg you, just keep what I said in mind.” 

Noctis rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay.” 

_____________________________

It’s two hours before the date, and Noctis came with Iggy to buy groceries, because Iggy says he has a_ ‘disappointing lack of nutrition’ _ in the fridge. He doesn’t know anything about spices or fresh goods, so he’s lounging around in the store to kill some time. He sees a shelf of tabloids by the automatic doors, and walks over to them, pulling his cap a little lower on his head. There’s the usual celebrity scandals, someone’s home cooking, and his eyes wander further down until he hits the bottom, and there’s a vibrant title in hot pink that prints in big, bold letters, _ ‘How to get your crush to like you. Ten tips for a successful date!’ _Noctis picks it up immediately, because it doesn’t hurt to have a little advice, right?

He flips the glossy page over and the first thing he sees in small white print is:

**1\. Dress to impress**. Don’t be afraid to dress up! A little cologne or perfume never hurts. Wear your best to look your best!

Noctis blinks. He was planning to wear a v-neck and jeans, but that was obviously a _ very _ bad idea. Maybe a dress shirt and a tie? He has some cologne that he’s never used, somewhere in the back of his closet. He looks at the next tip, a little anxious.

**2\. Subtly show that you’re interested** . Drop small hints. If they ask if you’ll go to an event, say something like, “ _ Only if you’re going _,” and that’ll let them know you’re invested.

Honestly, Noctis doesn’t know when this will apply, but he tries to remember the phrase anyway, if that’ll help any.

**3\. Keep in touch.** Text them, call them, but make sure you keep in contact with them frequently enough, but don’t be overbearing! This also applied for light touching- try to give subtle hints that you’re attracted to them.

Subtle? He could do subtle any day.

**4\. Be flirty.** Don’t be afraid to flirt with them! It lets them know that you’re interested, and keeps the conversation light and fun, so get your flirt on!

Noctis knows that Gladio reads a lot of romance novels, so that’s his go-to guy.

**5\. Be adventurous. **Being coy and shy isn’t too bad, but letting someone know that you’re willing to try new things is a great way to attract-

“Noctis?” Ignis says over his shoulder, and Noct closes the magazine, shoves it back on the shelf, and looks at Ignis very seriously. Ignis looks back at Noctis with a very blank and disinterested look, the one he gets when he looks at the morning paper. Noctis swears Ignis is an eighteen year old teen with the soul of an aged grandpa.

“Uh, reading and stuff,” Noctis says smoothly, and Ignis just pulls him out of the store. 

It’s half an hour before the date, and Noctis is frantically moogling how to knit a tie. His hair’s chaotically gelled back, and he’s got on his best navy blue dress shirt and slacks. All he has left is to tie the wretched thing, but no matter what he does, it ends up looking like a knotty lump. He just leaves it and sprays himself generously with some earthy cologne that supposedly smells like sandalwood. He can’t really tell since he’s never smelled it, but he goes out confidently anyway, emerging with his dress shirt, gelled hair, and mess of a blue tie. Ignis stares at him from the living room couch, mug raised halfway to his mouth. He slowly puts down his cup and rubs at his temples, just like he does whenever Noctis ignores his duties.

“I’m ready,” Noctis announces, and straightens his lump of a tie. Ignis sighs and walks over, eyebrows furrowing as he stops in front of Noctis.

“Is that,” Ignis says, pausing to sniff, “copious amounts of _ sandalwood _I smell?” His nose crinkles, and he gently fingers Noctis’ stiffly gelled hair like it’s a new specimen or something.

“Yep,” Noctis says proudly, “makes me smell more earthy, or _ manly, _ or something.” Ignis raises an eyebrow. Noctis shrugs, because he knows that he doesn’t look _ exactly _like he was planning anyway. 

“Earthy,” Ignis says, tone flat. Noctis gestures helplessly, and sighs heavily, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Why earthy, pray tell?”

“How else am I gonna _ seduce _ Prom?” Noctis says glumly, and Ignis nearly chokes. He takes a moment to regain his composure, and shifts his glasses, an exasperated smile on his lips. 

“Noctis, I _ assure _ you,” Ignis scoffs fondly, deftly undoing the tie, “you don’t need to smell _ manly _ to _ seduce _ Prompto.” He nearly folds the tie back and looks at Noctis, gaze sincere. “I’m sure Prompto likes you for who you are, trust me.” 

Noctis looks up at Ignis after a moment, a crooked albeit grateful smile gracing his lips. 

“Thanks, Iggy.” 

——————————————-

Noctis arrives at the arcade right on the dot, clad in a black v-neck and pale blue jeans. Prompto’s already at the doors, and he smiles when he sees Noctis, waving excitedly. Prompto’s wearing a simple blue graphic t-shirt and skinny jeans, and Noctis is glad that he didn’t dress up, because it’d be weird if only one of them did.

“Hey,” Noctis says, and futilely tries to remember one of Gladio’s tips that he’d gotten from bombarding him with texts in the last hour. 

“What’s up Noct?” Prompto says easily, a loose grin on his lips. Noctis suddenly remembers: ‘compliment their appearance,’ and he’s got it.

“Your shirt brings out the blue in your eyes,” Noctis says, and it immediately feels dumb, because Prompto’s shirt is blue too. 

Prompto blinks. “Thanks!” he smiles, “Wanna go in? It’s baking hot out here.” Noctis almost misses what Prompto says because he’s trying too hard to remember everything. He remembers the phrase, though, and it’s a great time to use it.

“Only if you’re going.” He doesn’t know if that’s how he’s supposed to use it. 

Prompto just tilts his head a little quizzically then laughs. “Nice joke,” he says with a laugh, and walks in. Noctis doesn’t really know if it worked, but he follows him in anyway. When they get inside the dim arcade, cool air hits them like a breeze. The place is filled with neon lights and flashing toys, and Noctis has to blink a few times to get used to it.

“There’s one that’s been really popular- it’s Cetha Phi’s newest game, _ Galaxy Invaders _, and you navigate space and shoot aliens,” Prompto says excitedly, and they both look over to see a long line accrued for it. 

“Maybe later?” Noctis says, and they end up at a shooting game instead, ‘_ Zombie Outbreak _’, something they both know Prompto’s insanely good at. Noctis can hold his own at the game, and last time they came to the arcade, he beat Prompto’s high score by a close second. 

“Wanna play?” Prompto asks, a smile on his lips, and he’s already taking the neon green plastic gun out of its holder. Noctis thinks really hard, because he thinks it’s a good time to say something that shows ‘he’s interested, but in romantic way’.

“Only if you want to,” Noctis ends up saying with what he hopes is a seductive wink, and Prompto stares at him, bewildered. Noctis winks again, and if that doesn’t get the point across, he doesn’t know what will. 

“Uh, bud, you ok? We can play something else, really,” Prompto says a little worried, and sets down the gun. That easily _ isn’t _ the reaction Noctis was going for. 

“W-what, no, yeah, let’s do it,” Noctis stammers, and fumbles with the plastic gun. He puts some coins into the machine and the screen blinks. Prompto looks a little unsure, but he goes along with it anyway, and next thing they know they’ve breached the final level for the first time, and there are zombies _ everywhere _. It’s the final wave of zombies, and Noctis goes down, leaving Prompto to carry them through.

“It’s all up to you, Prom,” Noctis says tensely, watching with growing amazement as the horde of zombies go down one by one, each shot getting bonus critical damage. He looks at Prompto, who’s staring at the screen with a laser-like focus, tongue peeking out in concentration. His blue eyes are crinkled at the edges, and the screen flickers on his freckled nose, and Noctis is too busy watching him in a daze to realize Prompto already cleared the level. He’s never going to tell Prompto, but he thinks he’s adorable when he’s trying his best.

“I beat it!” Prompto says excitedly, a happy grin spreading on his lips. He turns to Noctis with enthusiasm, a little hop in his step. “Sucks, but I think I think I beat your high score-” he teases, and Noctis can’t help but swoop in to press a small kiss to Prompto’s cheek, and Prompto freezes mid-sentence, face flushed completely tomato red.

“Let’s do it again,” Noctis says determinedly, cheeks dusted pink. He can’t help but let a small smile grow on his lips- he’s pretty sure he just nailed ‘_ subtle touching’ _. It’s a little embarrassing, so he faces the screen, and misses Prompto suffer a small mental breakdown. 

“Uh, y-yeah!” Prompto splutters, and nearly misses the coin slot. 

They’ve just finished a racing game and spent a solid hour on _ Galaxy Invaders _ when Prompto disappears for a bit to go to the restroom. Noctis is wandering around the arcade when he spots a chocobo keychain in the claw machine, and he immediately knows that he’s _ got _ to get it, because Prompto _ loves _ chocobos, and because Gladio said he should ‘get a proper gift’.

Turns out, Noctis is absolutely terrible at claw machines, so when Prompto comes back, he begrudgingly ends up having to enlist his help to get the keychain, even though he wanted to surprise him. They’re currently on their fifth try, and Noctis is already really close to giving up and finding a chocobo keychain somewhere else. 

“Just a little to the right,” Noctis says on the side of the machine, face glued to the glass. Prompto nods, and he bites his lip as he slowly moves the joystick. 

“Tell me when,” Prompto hums, crouching down to the level of the machine to watch the claw. They watch it slowly move across the top tentatively, holding their breaths.

“...right there,” Noctis says, and the claw descends and just barely nabs onto the chocobo’s head. The atmosphere’s tense as they watch the claw slowly make its way back with it in tow, and when it successfully drops, they both erupt into cheers. Noctis high fives Prompto, and they both jump excitedly, and he almost forgets why he wanted it in the first place. 

“Oh,” Noctis says when Prompto hands him the little guy, “it’s for you,” he says sheepishly, and he rubs the back of his head. 

“Really?” Prompto says animatedly, poking at the little chocobo, “Thanks, Noct! I’ll be sure to give him a name, like Jerry or something.” Noctis wrinkles his nose at the poor naming choice, but laughs anyway.

“Wanna get something to eat?” Noctis asks, and checks the time. It’s almost seven and all he’s had was some mushy cereal and a shortbread cookie. He’s famished.

“Sure,” Prompto says, and they both walk out of the arcade into the chilly night. All the neon lights are ablaze, and the night’s just barely black- more blue turning black. It’s about time for people to go home, so cars are whizzing past them in rush hour, and there are plenty of people milling about on the sidewalks. “How about Kenny Crow’s?” 

“If you’re there, I’ll go anywhere,” Noctis mumbles, cheeks flaming, and he doesn’t so much get a glance from Prompto. He _ really _ doesn’t know where he’s going wrong.

Prompto laughs and rolls his eyes. “Cool, Kenny Crow’s then,” he chirps. 

It’s getting chilly out, but neither of them are wearing jackets, so Noctis grabs Prompto’s hand and entwines their fingers as casually as he can, like it’s nothing new. Prompto just laughs and swings their arms back and forth. Noctis feels a shy, happy grin stretch across his lips, and he’s secretly relieved that the hand-holding seemed to evoke _ something _.

They get to Kenny Crow’s and Noctis is about to order the usual- a plate of fries and a nice, juicy burger, lettuce, tomato, and pickle free. His eye catches a little emoji of an orange flame, and he looks closer at the laminated page to see a ‘_ Death burger’ _ challenge, with a picture of a burger with black buns and a dangerously red sauce seeping from the sides. It says in small print at the bottom: ‘if you can finish it without any water, it’s _ free _ !!!’ Noctis immediately backs off, because he’s never been good with spicy things. He’s about to close the menu when he remembers the glossy magazine- ‘ _ be adventurous _’. The waitress comes by, and when she looks at Noctis, his mouth moves, but his mind doesn’t keep up. 

“I’ll do the death burger challenge,” he says, and she nods and scribbles it down on her notepad like she hears that everyday. He looks over at Prompto, who stares at him dumbfoundedly and orders his usual, chicken tenders with a side of honey mustard.

When the waitress leaves Prompto nudges Noctis across the table with a shocked laugh. “You’re really going for it, huh?” he says in awe, and Noctis is already dreading his decision. 

“Yeah,” he says, stirring at his shake, “love spice,” he says half-heartedly, and Prompto just laughs with an amused smile. 

“Alright Noct,” Prompto says, moving his cup of water forward, “this’ll be here if you need it.” 

“...Thanks,” Noctis says, and he figures it can’t be_ that _bad. 

Five minutes later Noctis is _ pretty _ sure paprika got up his nose. His eyes are watering and he keeps sniffling, and all he’s had was one little bite with a little smidge of sauce. Prompto watches him in part concern and part amusement, and offers him a napkin. Noctis takes it very gratefully because his lips _ are _ burning, and his mouth feels like a furnace. He plops the burger on the plate and grabs Prompto’s drink because some battles are worth winning, but_ not_ this one.

“You okay buddy?” Prompto laughs, and Noctis almost chokes at the rate he’s drinking the water. He slams the cup down and takes a minute to breath, the burning sensation still buzzing in his mouth. He looks up at Prompto, and tries to avoid coughing, because it just makes the sensation worse.

“Just peachy,” he gasps, and he really doesn’t know how this is supposed to attract anyone. He’s pretty sure he’s not attracting _ Prompto _, anyway. Prompto just gives him a weird but fond look, and Noctis doesn’t touch the toxic burger for the rest of their dinner. He’s decided that he’s done with following the advice from the magazine.

They’re on the way home talking about Cetha Phi’s upcoming VR game, Iggy’s glasses, and other trivial things when they’re finally in front of Prompto’s place. The sound of cicadas are in the air, and there a couple of fireflies going around the bushes. They stop in front of his door, and Prompto turns to Noctis, and Noctis’ mind is completely blank.

“Noct, I had fun today.” Prompto nudges Noctis, a smile on his lips.”Let’s _ hangout _ again, whenever you’re free, yeah?” Noctis stares at Prompto blankly, and the word ‘ _ hangout’ _ echoes in his head, and he slowly feels a sense of despair creep over him.

“Noct?” Prom says, waving his hand in front of Noctis’ face. “Earth to Noct?”

“Prompto,” Noctis says, voice strangled, “did you know this was a...date?” His face is flaming red, but Noctis is forging on, because he _ has _ to know. “Like a _ date, _ date.” Prompto’s expression says everything, and Noctis smacks his face in exasperation.

“Uh,” Prompto says intelligently, and his cheeks are dusted red. “I-”

“I like you,” Noctis blurts out, ears red, and Prompto’s mouth clacks shut. He looks shocked and confused and embarrassed, and Noctis really wants to be anywhere else but here. All of a sudden, Ignis’ warning comes back into mind, and Noctis _really _wishes that he listened to him now.

“Gods, uh-” Noctis is wracking his brain for an excuse, any excuse to go home and rot in his bed, when Prompto’s hands are around his face, and he leans in, face flushed pink and expression nervous, and Noctis’ mind goes completely blank. He crosses the remaining space and then they’re clumsily kissing, and it’s not mind blowing, and there aren’t stars glittering everywhere, but Noctis feels euphoric, and that’s more than enough.

They pull away from each other, and Prompto looks stupidly adorable, so Noctis leans in to press another kiss on his freckled nose. Prompto laughs and flicks a piece of Noctis’ hair out of his eyes.

“Noct,” Prompto takes a deep breath, and a shy smile stretches across his lips. “I really like you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This relieves my soul


End file.
